Chapter 5: The Surveillance Footage

I told Ananya I’d be away for about a week. But I just found a hotel and watched her every move through the camera app on my phone.

The first night, I barely slept. My eyes glued to the tiny screen, watching my own house, my own wife, as if I were a stranger peering through the window. It was like something out of a crime show, only realer—and uglier.

Even though I was mentally prepared, seeing Amit show up at my house the very day I left, I still couldn’t help smashing the cup beside me.

The crash startled the hotel staff, who knocked on my door to check. I brushed them off, muttering about clumsiness, while rage boiled inside me.

Ananya threw herself at Amit like a seductress, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him first.

It was jarring—like watching a stranger in my wife’s body. She giggled, whispered things I’d never heard from her lips.

Amit dodged. “He’s really not home?”

His voice, so familiar, now sounded mocking. I wanted to reach through the screen and grab him by the collar.

“No, he’s gone for the week. Said he’s attending some annual event.”

She sounded relieved, almost gleeful. My heart twisted.

“Oh, good. Saves you from making up another business trip excuse.”

They laughed together, like two conspirators sharing a joke at my expense.

Then Amit pushed Ananya’s hand away. “So eager? Rohan can’t satisfy you?”

His words were crude, cutting. I clenched my teeth, willing myself not to smash another object.

Ananya pouted. “What are you saying? Since I got with you, I haven’t let him touch me. And you still doubt my loyalty.”

Her voice dripped with false innocence. I barely recognised her anymore.

Amit coaxed her with a smile. “Don’t rush. Anyway, Rohan’s not home. We’ve got plenty of time. I’ll make sure to satisfy you, meri jaan.”

That old phrase—‘meri jaan’—felt like poison. I’d heard him use it with friends, with me, but hearing it here turned my stomach.

Ananya finally smiled. “Fine, but next time I report, my performance rating has to be an A.”

Their laughter filled the living room, mocking the life I thought we had.

“No problem. End-of-year team project bonus—I’ll give you the biggest share.”

Their whispers were filled with greed, as if they’d already divvied up my dignity.

The two of them acted like a loving couple, whispering and then hugging. I endured the humiliation and saved these surveillance videos. These days, I not only recorded their sweet domestic life, but also plenty of unsightly intimate scenes.

I watched, gritting my teeth, refusing to look away. If I was going to destroy them, I needed every last bit of evidence.

I never imagined—the Ananya who was so cold to me, annoyed by my touch, would humble herself so much to please Amit, not even caring about her dignity. And Amit, like a king, enjoyed Ananya’s service, acting all superior.

It was as if I’d been written out of my own story, replaced by this obscene farce. My chest burned with shame and anger.

This is the wife I cherished. This is the best friend I trusted.

The betrayal was total. There was nothing left to salvage.

A week later, I returned to that filthy flat. Even though, after Amit left, Ananya had cleaned the place until it was spotless, I still felt the house was dirty, reeking.

The scent of fresh naphthalene balls and phenyl couldn’t cover the stench of lies. I felt like vomiting.

I couldn’t stay another second. I packed my things and left.

I stuffed clothes into my duffel, barely bothering to fold them. I left behind the pressure cooker, the mixer, the things that used to matter. They didn’t belong to me anymore.

I paused at the doorway, remembering Ananya’s laugh echoing through this hall—before it all turned silent.

Then, carrying some random sweets I bought at a local mithai shop, I arranged to meet Amit.

I wanted to see his face—one last time—before I shattered his world, the way he’d shattered mine.

My hands shook as I watched the footage, the hotel AC humming in the background, colder than any betrayal.