Adultery The Aarogya Wellness and Intimacy Clinic

[prasannas2001]

 

 
 
Naveen found his shirt, held it out to her.
 
"Here," he said.
 
"Put this on."
 
She took it, confused.
 
"What, "
 
"Put it on. And then come here."
 
She did.
 
She pulled the shirt over her head, it hung to her thighs, soft and worn and smelling of him, and she came to him, hesitant, uncertain.
 
He opened his arms, and she stepped into them, and he held her the way he had held her before, wrapping her in his warmth, pressing his lips to the top of her head.
 
They stood like that for a long time.
 
The city hummed beyond the windows.
 
The rose petals lay scattered across the bed.
 
And Naveen held his wife, feeling her heartbeat slow against his chest and her breasts pressing his chest.
 
He could feel the firmness of those full breasts against his chest.
 
He told himself that this was enough.
 
This was more than enough.
 
This was everything.
 
He didn't know what was wrong.
 
He didn't know why she was afraid.
 
But he knew one thing, with a certainty that went beyond words:
 
He would wait.
 
He would wait forever if he had to.
 
They stayed like that for a long time.
 
Minutes, or hours, he couldn't tell.
 
The city outside grew quieter, the lights dimming one by one as Hyderabad settled into sleep.
 
The rose petals on the bed seemed to darken in the low light, their edges curling, their scent fading into something softer, more melancholy.
 
Eventually, she pulled back.
 
Just a little.
 
Just enough to look up at him.
 
"I'm tired," she said.
 
Her voice was small, raw.
 
"Can we, can we just sleep?"
 
"Of course."
 
He led her to the bed.
 
He pulled back the covers, and she climbed in, her body disappearing beneath the white sheets, his shirt is lose on her, it is riding up to reveal a sliver of her thigh.
 
He turned off the lamp on his side, then walked around to hers and turned off that one too.
 
The room fell into darkness, lit only by the pale glow of the city pressing against the windows.
 
He climbed in beside her.
 
He kept a careful distance, a hand's width between their bodies, and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
 
"Goodnight," he said.
 
"Goodnight."
 
Silence