Her Nightmare | 18+

| Burning Passions |

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PARINIDHI

Devansh swiftly entered the room after me, yet I remained sprawled on the bed, feigning slumber. My internal turmoil left me devoid of any inclination to engage with him.

Reclining with my back to the door, I tightly clutched the duvet close to my chest.

The sound of Devansh's footsteps drawing near filled the room, intensifying my grasp on the duvet.

"Pari," Devansh uttered softly, his voice laced with affection, but I made no movement.

Aware of my wakefulness, Devansh purposefully trailed his finger from my shoulder to my wrist, eliciting a shiver that rippled through me.

"What's the matter, love? Something weighing on your mind?" Devansh's voice was soft and concerned as he gently probed, but I remained silent, still lying motionless.

The room fell into a heavy silence, and for a moment, I wondered if Devansh had quietly left.

Yet, his warm breath against my ear brought me back to reality. "Pari, I can sense you're awake. And it's evident you're not in the mood to converse," he continued, his tone tender. "I'll be in the study if you need me. Just give a call." With a gentle kiss on my earlobe, he departed, his footsteps fading as he left the room, leaving me to ponder in the ensuing quietude.

I sat up in bed, my eyes fixed on the door, trying to make sense of my thoughts.

"What is wrong with me?" I muttered, chastising myself.

I changed into more comfortable attire and lay back down.

I fixated on the ceiling, lost in thought, until my phone buzzed with a message from an unfamiliar number. Initially, I brushed it off, but when a second message chimed in, I relented and opened it.

As the image unfolded before me, it felt as though the ground had vanished beneath my feet. My hand trembled, causing the phone to slip and clatter onto the floor.

Snatching it up, I hoped against hope for some illusion, but the image persisted—a damning portrayal of Devansh entangled with another woman.

Despite her obscured face, his unmistakable features and the scar on his back spoke volumes.

Tears blurred my vision as I grappled with the magnitude of betrayal. Enduring the trials of our marriage now felt like a cruel joke in the face of such treachery.

Fueled by rage, I marched towards the door, only to freeze at the threshold, gripped by a torrent of conflicting emotions.

What words could possibly convey the depth of my anguish? Why demand an explanation from someone devoid of remorse?

Sinking back onto the bed, I dialed the unknown number, yearning for answers, but it rang unanswered.

Zooming in on the photo, I scrutinized every detail, desperately hoping for some shred of doubt, but the scar on Devansh's back was a damning confirmation of his infidelity.

I sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, grappling with the betrayal unfolding before my eyes. Eventually, I set my phone aside and allowed myself to sink into the bed, overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions.

As tears cascaded down my cheeks, I realized that perhaps this revelation was a blessing in disguise. It would serve as the catalyst for my departure, leaving behind a lasting imprint on his conscience. This lesson, I vowed, would be etched in his memory for a lifetime. Lost in my reverie, I didn't notice when sleep finally overcame me.