[Umavictor32]

Chapter 25: The Trap She Set

[Location: Muthu's house, Besant Nagar | Day: Friday | Date: 1st January 2027 | Time: 5:00 PM]

The afternoon had cooled into the blue hour. In the big bedroom with the mirrored ceiling, the curtains were half drawn, and the sea whispered somewhere beyond the glass. Chithra lay on her side with her back to Muthu. Naked. The sheets twisted low at her hips. The afternoon's salt and sweat had been rinsed off, but there was no soap smell, only warm skin and the faintest trace of jasmine oil from the den.

Muthu's arm lay across her waist, heavy and still. His chest pressed along her spine, his breath even against her shoulder. For a long while neither of them spoke. Then his thumb moved—one slow stroke over the curve of her hip..

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"Why sudden transformation?"

Chithra's eyes were open, fixed on the far wall. "What do you mean?"

"I don't suspect the sex you had with me last night—December thirty-first." His voice was low, careful. "But whatever is happening today makes me confused. Is this some trap for me? Or are you really changing? Did you really become my whore?"

She didn't reply. Her body stayed still under his arm, her breath shallow.

Muthu turned her. His hand on her shoulder, not rough, but firm enough to roll her onto her back. He looked into her eyes. The fading light caught the glisten there—not tears yet, but something wet. "Is this some kind of trap?"

Chithra's lips parted. "Yes." Her voice was steady. "This is a trap."

Shock hit him. His face emptied for a half-second, then his hand shot to her throat. Not squeezing at first—just the weight of his palm over her windpipe.


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 Then his fingers flexed, and her air cut off. Chithra didn't fight. She didn't claw. She lay motionless under him, her eyes open and fixed on his, her pulse beating slow and hard against his thumb.

For three seconds. Five. Eight.

His hand dropped.

"Fuck off," he said, thrusting himself up. "Get up. Go from here." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her upright, pushing her legs off the bed. "Go."

Chithra rose slowly. She didn't run. She pulled the white towel from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her body, tucking it above her breasts. Then she turned to face him.

"This is the attitude of all men." Her voice came from deep in her chest. "You force a woman to have sex. Make her under your control. Make her impure. But inside you there is always a fright—what if we women react? And the moment we start to react, you panic."

Muthu stood naked beside the bed, chest heaving, watching her face.

Chithra took a step closer. "Why don't you ask the question 'why' rather than getting panic?"

Something shifted in his gaze. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Then he sat back on the edge of the bed, silent. "Proceed."

Chithra stood in the middle of the room, the towel hanging low on her hips now, her breasts bare, her hair loose.

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"Think from my point of view. I'm a twenty-four-year-old Madurai girl. Married to a man I never saw before the wedding. I had an affair before—someone I loved—but my parents didn't see my heart. I thought at least the man who married me would understand me." Her voice cracked. "But from the day he married, he focused only on sex, sex, sex. Everywhere I went, he kept asking about sex. Taunting me for not giving it to him. I told him before itself that I was in love with someone else, but he didn't listen. He just wanted me. My body."

Her face twisted. "That made me angry. Disinterested. Yes, I purposely kept my pussy unwashed after urinating because I didn't want to have sex with that asshole. Still I took care of him. When society started barking, I let him touch me three or four times to get a child. We could have opted for IVF, but I didn't. I let him touch."

Muthu didn't speak. He watched her, his hands braced on his knees.

"After Aaryan was born, I kept my distance again. He destroyed my love. I can't accept it."

Tears broke. They ran down her cheeks, over her chin, spotting the towel. Her shoulders shook. "This house in Porur—it was his choice, not mine. I said we shouldn't buy a house now. Now you can ask why i didnt apply divorce that time...?? You can ask who gave you meal and shelter....?? If i had so much confidence to give divorce, do you think i would have married him firstly... Food he gave and shelter he provided, i consider it as a salary for taking care of his house and his child..Chithra cried...

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Then.... you came into our lives from somewhere. I thought my husband would protect me at least this time. But he used me like property. He pimped me." Her voice rose, raw. "And still I forgave him!"

She was crying hard now, the sobs violent. Muthu's face was wooden, unreadable.

"But still you are better than him, Muthu." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "You fucked me that one night. Next day you took your revenge by taking me to that theater, then left me. That's all you wanted. I thought everything had come to an end. I was happy, waiting for Aaryan and him. We decided to start a new life. But that bastard killed my son."

The word son came out shattered.

"These two months, do you think I never went to meet him in Puzhal? December twenty-eighth, I went. I met Vijay." She held his gaze. "He told me he only killed my son. To be frank, I thought it might be your plan to get me—by killing my son or forcing my husband to do it. But he said no. He said he did it on his own. I was completely broken."

Muthu listened. His face gave nothing. Without looking away from her, he reached for his phone on the nightstand. His thumb moved—quick, precise—typing a message. He sent it to Puzhal warden Govind, the man who ran the psychiatric ward they called the corona ward. The message asked: was there any visitor for Vijay on December twenty-sixth?

Chithra didn't see. She kept going, her hands shaking at her sides.

"Two months I was confused. I didn't know what to do. The money I got from Vijay's office can't keep me alive for long. What else could I do? I tried suicide twice. The first time I didn't have the confidence. The second time, the neighbour caught me."

She swallowed, her voice dropping low.

"Now what else can I do? I am completely caged. So I decided this. This is a trap I am putting on myself to safeguard me. I know you will destroy me. So let me die by destruction. At least you will be happy. That's the reason I am accepting being your whore and doing whatever you told me till now."

A buzz. Muthu's phone lit up. A WhatsApp message from Govind had popped on the screen: a photo of Chithra taken that day, and the register signature page, clear and undeniable. What she said was true.

Muthu looked at the image for a long moment. Then he stood. The phone remained on the bed. He walked slowly across the room, each step unhurried, until he was directly in front of her.

He didn't speak. Just reached out and pulled her into him. His arms wrapped around her bare shoulders, one hand cradling the back of her head. The towel slipped, but neither moved to fix it.

"RIGHT DECISION," he said into her hair. "RIGHT DECISION."

His voice was rough, almost tender. She cried against his chest, her tears sliding over his skin, and his arms held tighter. The sea air came through the window, cool and salt-clean, and the room settled into silence.

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