Dhruve thought he had it all: a loving wife, a successful career, and a life he’d built against all odds. Every day, the simple words "Welcome home, dear" from his wife were his personal heaven, erasing the grind of the world. Three years of blissful marriage, a defiant victory over family objections, had convinced him he’d cracked life’s code.

Then came the morning he forgot his phone.

Rushing back home during his lunch break, eager to see her face and retrieve his forgotten device, Dhruve’s world shattered. Through a barely ajar bedroom door, he heard it: his wife’s familiar laugh, intertwined with the unmistakable grunts of another man. The woman he loved, the sanctuary he called home—both brutally violated.

Frozen, reeling from betrayal, Dhruve chose silence over explosion. He captured damning proof, then walked away, a ghost in his own house. The rage was searing, but beneath it, a chilling resolve began to form. He wouldn't scream; he would plot. He wouldn't break; he would rebuild—a calculated, precise revenge.

"Welcome Home, Stranger." is a gripping tale of love, betrayal, and the meticulous unraveling of a life built on a lie. When heaven shatters, and fury turns cold, how far will a man go to reclaim his narrative and make his betrayer stand naked in the unforgiving light of truth? This isn't just a story of revenge; it's a slow-burning engine of retribution, fueled by small, surgical cuts, until there's nothing left to feed.

One Friday night she said she was going for a late dinner with an old college friend.


But I texted Raj. He tracked her location through a contact who worked at the restaurant.


Guess what? She wasn't at that fancy Italian place.


She was at a cheap rooftop café across town. The one with the broken neon sign.


Raj sent me a blurry photo — her silhouette beside Arjun's at a corner table.


I stared at that photo until my eyes burned. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just saved it. Another nail.


Chapter 22 - The Dinner Lie