Adultery 100 Days with My Wife: One Women, Two Desires, One Eternal Love [Completed]

[heygiwriter]

Epilogue: The Quiet Complicated Rhythm


Life slowly returned to a fragile normalcy in the house.

The days blended into a familiar pattern. Rahul focused intensely on the growing gym business, often leaving early and returning late. Anandhi managed the home with quiet efficiency — cooking, helping with homework, and caring for the children. The kids grew up surrounded by love, laughter, and the occasional unexplained tension they were too young to understand.

Suriya did not even come to town for the housewarming function of his own new house.

Anandhi and Rahul performed the ceremony together, lighting the lamp and inviting neighbors, pretending it was just another family event. Everything appeared normal on the surface.
For almost a year, Suriya never returned.

He stayed away, focusing on his expanding business in Chennai and Mumbai. Occasional phone calls came for the children — short, warm conversations that left Aara giggling and Rohan and Riya excited. But he never visited.
Then, exactly one year later, on Aara’s birthday, Suriya came back.

He said he would stay for a week.
The children were overjoyed. Rohan and Riya ran to him, hugging him tightly. Aara, who was too young to remember him clearly, still gelled with him instantly — climbing into his lap, calling him “Periyappa” with a bright smile, as if some invisible bond had never broken.

Rahul was completely busy with work, spending long hours at the shop. He greeted Suriya politely but kept his distance.

Suriya did not stay at Rahul’s house. He chose to stay at his own new house nearby.

The immediate day after he arrived, Rahul dropped the kids at college and went to the shop for some pending work. In the afternoon, he tried calling Anandhi to ask her to prepare dinner for Suriya.

The phone rang for a long time. No answer.

inside the bedroom, Anandhi was completely naked, straddling Suriya on the bed. He was sucking hungrily at her breasts, drinking milk from her while she moaned softly, her fingers tangled in his hair. Their bodies moved together in a slow, deep rhythm — skin against skin, breaths mingling, lost in each other.

An hour later, Rahul tried calling Anandhi again.

Still no answer.

She was actually getting fucked by Suriya — bent over the bed, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her from behind with deep, possessive strokes. Her moans filled the room. She had completely forgotten the outside world in that moment.

Rahul reached his house. But could not see Anandhi or her car.. 

Few minutes later he decided to check Suriya's house.. The gate was open, but the main door was locked. He drove a few meters ahead and parked. He walked silently toward the back.

When he peeked through the slightly open window, he saw Anandhi on her knees on the floor. Suriya was standing in front of her, holding her head gently as he slid his cock deep into her mouth, face-fucking her with slow, controlled thrusts. Anandhi’s eyes were closed in pleasure, her hands resting on his thighs.

Rahul stepped back, his heart sinking.

He knew things had not stopped. They had simply chosen to hide it better. He knew they could not stop their relationship, and that she still chose both of them in her own complicated way.

From that day onward, Suriya started visiting once a month.

He would stay just for a day or two, but on those days, Anandhi would be completely unavailable — making excuses, disappearing for hours. Rahul noticed every time.

Anandhi, however, had chosen transparency in her own subtle way.

She never lied to Rahul outright. Instead, she would give him gentle, indirect hints — a soft “I’m going to meet Suriya for a while” or “He wants to spend some time with Aara today.” Her tone was always respectful, never disrespectful, but it carried an unspoken understanding: she was not hiding the meetings, but she was also not asking for permission. She wanted honesty without breaking Rahul’s heart completely.

Rahul never confronted her directly. He simply bore it in silence, learning to live with the quiet ache.

Six months later, Madhavan called Rahul.

“I’ve introduced a new machine,” Madhavan said excitedly. “I want you to come and check it yourself.”

Rahul, already broken deep inside, went to Mumbai.

Madhavan explained with pride, “Last time it was the body age reversal machine. This time… it’s a face swap or body swap machine. I can transform you into whoever you wish. Whomever.”

Madhavan smiled.

“Do you have anyone in mind?”

Rahul stared at him for a long moment, then silently showed him a photo on his phone.

It was Suriya’s photo.