NOTE: This prompt is written from woman's perspective.
I sat back in the armchair, my body still vibrant from the day's adrenaline. God, it felt good to feel alive again. The house was silent, to the chaos that had consumed me earlier. Rakesh was at work - late meetings or something. I didn't care. He hadn't made me feel anything in years. I smiled to myself, remembering how Ajay's hands felt on my skin just hours ago. My pulse quickened again. That wasn't guilt I felt - not even close. It was satisfaction. Pure, raw satisfaction.
I have not always lived this way. In the past I was that loyal wife who made lunches, who ironed her husband's shirts, who stayed up waiting for him with a cup of chai when he got home late. I used to believe in that perfect Indian family bullshit. In reality those ideals failed to provide me with solutions. We hardly knew each other anymore and appeared to be going through the motions as if we still cared. He saw a cook, a housemaid, a glorified mother. That's what years of marriage does to you - it turns you into a damn piece of furniture.
But that's not me. Not anymore.
Ajay changed everything. He was younger, with the kind of energy Rakesh had never had, even in his prime. He looked me as though I were a goddess astonishing enough to attract someone's interest. His touch ignited a passion I hadn't known in years; I had lost that feeling a long time ago. He didn't regard me as a compliant wife; he respected me as a woman. The sex was wild - nothing like the stale, robotic encounters I was used to. It wasn't even just about the physical part. He made me feel powerful and appealing to him.
It commenced in a manner that was relatively innocent if you prefer that description. Flirting over coffee, harmless texts here and there. But there was nothing innocent about it when I found myself in his bed for the first time. I recall when I reached that boundary; that moment was thrilling. I took no time to think; I engaged without any doubts. Just raw, unfiltered desire. I had lost the reminder of the rush of being desired and obsessed.
Rakesh? Oh please, he never had a clue. The man paid little attention to his wife as he spent time looking at his phone or watching cricket. He believed since I prepared his meals and sorted his laundry I was happy. I laughed bitterly at the memory of how I used to be so damn loyal. What a fucking waste.
I was done with the whole good wife act. Done playing house for a man who didn't give a shit about me beyond what I could do for him. If society wanted to call me a slut, fine. Let them. At least I was enjoying myself for once. At least I was living. I wasn't tied down by those suffocating traditions anymore. I had seen too many women in my neighborhood go through the same shit - spending their whole lives pleasing their husbands, only to be tossed aside once they weren't “useful” anymore. I refused to let myself shrink and vanish.
Ajay was different. In his company I had the chance to escape my responsibilities. I could authentically project my identity free from apologies or reasons. I understood his opinion without being put down. He didn't judge me for what I wanted. Hell, he encouraged it. We would meet whenever we could, our encounters always electric. The first time he kissed me, I felt something I hadn't felt in years: hunger. This type of hunger does not emerge from hunger pains; instead it fills you from the inside and makes you crave more. And I fucking loved it.
I didn't have to worry about any conditions or commitments for the future. I didn't need that. I had my life, my family, my responsibilities, and I was fine keeping those separate. Rakesh kept believing an acceptable excuse for his survival. Our connection worked well as long as he left me alone and didn't obstruct what I aimed for.
Many would have strong opinions if they knew what I chose to do - “How could she hurt her family? To her husband?” Well, screw that. Let them talk. Women who make a scene and act superior might also struggle with partners of similar ignorance as mine. I won't waste my future catering to what other people think is best. Not anymore. If that made me a villain, so be it.
In a way, I almost wanted Rakesh to find out. I wanted him to know that I wasn't that same docile little housewife he married. I wanted him to see the woman I had become - the one he could never have. He could keep his dull, predictable life. I had something better. I had control.
The kid? Rohit was 18 now, practically an adult, ready to start his own life. I didn't owe him anything beyond what I had already given. I had raised him well, made sure he had a good life. My existence wasn't finished simply because I was a mother. I still possessed reality and personality along with desires and aspirations. For the first time in many years I prioritized myself over others. I felt no guilt over how that perception would impact my motherhood. For many years I was a mother who excelled along with being a loyal wife and daughter-in-law. What did I gain from my efforts? An empty marriage and a hollow existence.
I used to feel guilty. I used to worry about what people would think. But not anymore. Now, I felt powerful. I held all the cards. Rakesh didn't know, Ajay didn't ask for anything more, and I was free to live the life I wanted, no strings attached. The thrill of sneaking around, of knowing I could have this double life, was strangely good. I had never felt so alive, so fucking in control.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, running my fingers through my hair. There was a grin on my face that hadn't been there in years. I liked this new version of myself, this unapologetic, confident woman who took what she wanted. Who cared if society thought I was a slut? At least I wasn't miserable anymore.
PS: Prompt and Kinks open for discussion, including new ideas or modifications. If anyone is interested, feel free to DM.