Going shopping for baby items alone, the wife unexpectedly caught her husband gently pushing a stroller for a strange woman
Priya is not the type of woman who is jealous. Married for four years, she always believed that Raj – her husband – is a kind, neat and reasonable man. Especially since she became pregnant with her first child, Raj has shown more care and concern. Priya feels lucky. But there are moments, just one moment, that are enough to expose everything.

That afternoon, Priya asked for a day off from work to go shopping for baby items at MotherCare. She planned to invite Raj to go with her, but he said he had an urgent matter at work and told her to go ahead. Priya went alone, leisurely looking at each adorable little item. But when she turned into the stroller and high chair section, her eyes accidentally stopped at a familiar image.

Raj.

He was pushing a shopping cart, walking next to a heavily pregnant woman in a green salwar kameez. She was tired, frowning slightly, so Raj bent down to adjust the strap of her bag, supporting her elbow to steady her. They spoke softly, intimately, almost like a couple in Mumbai preparing for their first child.

Priya stood there, stunned.

Her face was flushed, but her throat was tight. She didn’t scream. She didn’t rush over to ask, “Explain!” Priya just stared for a few seconds—long enough for everything inside her to crumble—then turned away.

Her hands were shaking as she typed on the phone. There were so many things she wanted to say, but in the end Priya sent only one sentence in Hindi: “Mainne dekh liya. Ghar aake koi vyaakhya ki zaroorat nahi.”

The message registered as “read” after only 5 seconds.

But Raj didn’t reply.

Priya walked out of the store and sat down on a bench in front of the door. She didn’t cry. She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. The baby’s belly kicked gently, as if reminding her that no matter what, she had to be strong.

Ten minutes later, Raj texted back:
“Tum galat samajh rahi ho. Main samjhaata hoon.”

Priya didn’t reply.

She called a taxi to her home in the Greater Kailash area. When she got there, she packed a small bag, put in a few sarees, salwar kameez, and her pregnancy book. The once-warm house was now cramped and stuffy. Countless questions swirled in Priya’s mind: “How long have they known each other?”, “That baby…?”, “How long has Raj been cheating on her?”

But what made her bitterest wasn’t the betrayal — it was Raj’s natural, attentive attitude toward the other woman. A familiarity that couldn’t have been “accidental.”

The door swung open.

Raj ran in, panting, looking panicked.

— Priya, suno meri baat! — Raj tried to hold her hand.

Priya stepped back.

— I just need to answer one question. You and her… shuru kab se hai?
Raj’s face paled slightly. Just a second of hesitation. But just that, Priya understood. And in that very moment… Raj began to lose everything…

Raj stood frozen. His eyes darted away, his lips twitching as if he was trying to find an excuse. But Priya didn’t need to hear anymore. Raj’s silence… was the answer.

— Priya… maine galti ki. Par tum meri baat suno… — Raj stepped forward, desperate. Priya clasped her hands to her stomach, coldly calm. — Mujhe vyaakhya nahi, sacchaai chahiye. Aur aapne abhi woh dikha diya

Those words were like a final stab at the false wall that Raj had built all this time. He let his hands fall, looking at Priya who was gathering up a few small items. — Tum… ja rahi ho? — Raj’s voice trembled.

Priya did not cry. Not a single tear. The calmness of a woman who once loved with all her heart but now had no faith in her.

— Abhi nahi jaungi toh jab baccha paida hoga, woh bhi aise baap ke saath nahi jeet paayega. — Priya replied, her voice small but as hard as steel. — Us SMS ke baad se… maine sirf apna self-respect bachaya hai.

Raj collapsed on the chair, holding his head, breathing heavily. He was like someone who had just realized the sentence he had written himself.

— Priya… woh baccha… mera nahi hai. Main bas madad kar raha tha… woh meri colleague hai. Main jaanta tha tum galti samjhogi… par main kasam khaata hoon…

Priya interrupted, not looking at him:

— Agar vaastav mein bekasoor hote… toh turant supermarket mein hi jawab dete. Aap itne ghabrate nahi. Aur aap mujhe yeh baatein sunne ko bhi nahi dete.

Raj was silent. His head was down. His hands were clenched, trembling like someone who had just lost his way.

Priya zipped up her bag, stood up straight.

— Jab aapne us SMS ka jawab nahi diya… tabhi aapne is parivaar ko khoya tha

The door swung open as Priya stepped out. The wind from outside hit her face, cold, but her heart was strangely still. One step… then two. With each step, a piece of memory fell.

Raj rose up:

— Priya! Main maangta hoon! Main use chhod doonga! Main badal jaaoonga! Tum mat jao!

Priya turned around, looking Raj straight in the eyes for the first time since meeting him at the shop—Tum samjhe nahin.—She said softly.—Jo cheez mujhe le ja rahi hai… woh woh aurat nahi hai. Balki woh tareeka hai jis mein tumne mujhe dhokha dene ka chuna.

Raj stood still, frozen.

Priya continued, softly but sharply:

—Tumhari patni, tumhare bacche ke liye samaan khareedne akele 8 mahine ki pet le jaati hai… aur tum kisi doosri aurat ki itni khayaal rakhte ho. Woh pal sab kuch keh deta hai

She turned away. This time, Raj did not have the courage to run after her.

Night fell, and Priya opened the door to her best friend’s small rented room in Hauz Khas. She put her bag down, letting out a breath she hadn’t dared to take in four years.

The phone vibrated.

Raj texted:
“Main galat tha. Ek aakhri mauka de sakti ho?”

Priya looked at the screen. Her fingers paused for a beat.

Then she texted back exactly four words in English, the language he used at work:
“No chances left.”

That message—intact, short, decisive—ended everything.

And in that moment, Raj truly lost everything: a wife who always believed in him, a child he hadn’t had the chance to hold, and the home he hadn’t known how to appreciate when it was still full.

Priya put her hand on her stomach, smiling tiredly but resiliently.

— Hum theek honge, bete/beti…

That wasn’t the end for her. It was the beginning of a new journey, where Priya no longer had to hold on to any man… but herself.