Misc. Erotica The unexpected path

[shaalu_re]

Meera moved around the kitchen with quiet determination, preparing Ajay’s favorite dishes — dal tadka, jeera rice, and crispy aloo paratha. The familiar aromas filled the flat, a small attempt to create some sense of normalcy after the whirlwind of the past few days. She was trying to feel like the old Meera again — the devoted wife who cooked for her husband with love.

While the food simmered, her mind worked on a careful plan.
I will tell him about my promotion. I will clear his misinformation about Shankar. He is a nice guy , he flirts but all men are pigs. Vikram may be little stubborn but good people.I will make him understand this. Then I can help him develop his new business with contracts from our company, then make him leave his old job. We can live happily ever after.

She decided she wouldn’t tell him about her sex with Chotu. That was too painful, too complicated, and too private. But she would mention that Chotu had seen her naked. She wanted Ajay to feel a little pain — to understand what it felt like when the person you love uses you and plays with your emotions.

He needs to feel some of what I felt. So he knows not to play with my feelings again.
The clock on the wall showed 9:00 PM. Ajay still wasn’t home.
Meera’s heart sank. The food she had prepared with care was getting cold on the table. She called him.
Ajay answered in a low, whispering tone, sounding distracted.
“Meera… I’m busy right now. I’ll have to stay here tonight. I’ll come home tomorrow morning.”

The line went dead before she could respond.
Meera stared at the phone, feeling a fresh wave of rejection wash over her. The dishes she had made suddenly felt meaningless. Tears pricked her eyes as she sat down at the dining table, staring at the untouched food.
He rejected me again. He is still playing with my emotions.
Her phone buzzed with a message from Chotu.
Chotu: Didi, did I do anything wrong? I’m sorry if I hurt you. Please tell me.
Meera read the message and felt a sharp pang of guilt. She had done to Chotu exactly what Ajay had done to her — used him for comfort and emotional support when she needed it, then pushed him away when it became inconvenient.

She stared at the message for a long time, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. The parallel was painful and undeniable.
She put the phone down without replying, feeling more lost and conflicted than ever.
The flat felt emptier than it had in a long time.
Meera sat alone at the dining table, the cold food in front of her, wrapped in her thoughts.

She had become the person she hated — someone who used others’ feelings for her own emotional needs and then discarded them when it suited her.