My Wife Sold Herself for Rupees
Chapter 7: Letting Go
Ten years ago, I gave up a high-paying job in Amrika for Sneha. My family mocked me, but I believed in love. We met in the college canteen, survived campus politics, and still chose each other. I never imagined she’d give herself to a stranger over me.
Sneha hummed as she put on makeup, dabbing lipstick, her reflection smiling as if nothing was wrong. My chest felt tight—Sneha, we’re truly finished.
When she left, I pushed my feelings aside and went to the hospital for a check-up. The waiting room was chaos—old men arguing with nurses, the smell of Dettol everywhere, and a chaiwala outside shouting, "Cutting chai!" I sat, hands clenched, dreading the worst. I’d been with Sneha only a month ago, no protection, thinking we were exclusive.
The wait was torture, but the results were clear. The doctor handed me the report, eyes kind. "Sab normal hai. Kuch nahi hua." Relief flooded me.
While I packed for my new life, Sneha kept sending shameless photos—pouting, posing, obscene. I deleted them all. "Kuch toh sharam kar, Sneha," I thought, blocking her for good.
I packed everything, leaving nothing behind. Our home—once a love nest—was now listed with a broker. I called the agent: "Bhaiya, jaldi bech do. Koi bhi rate chalega."
Sneha’s messages turned frantic: "Rohan, my friend had something come up, I’m home now. Did you go out? I’ll wait for you at home." "Why is someone coming to see our house? I’m scared, when are you coming home?" I ignored them, busy with paperwork and banks.
Amit called, slurring, demanding compensation for the lost job abroad. I let him rant, then cut him off. "Don’t worry, bro. I’ve got a gift for you. Go to the address I send you—there’s a surprise."
He laughed. "Knew you wouldn’t treat me badly."
Sneha, anxious and pacing at home, opened the door to find Amit’s piggish face. Her smile vanished, jaw dropping.
"Wh... why is it you?" Her voice was barely a whisper, fear in her eyes almost pitiful. For the first time, I felt nothing—no anger, no pain. Just the hollow echo of everything I’d lost.
