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.

Nights had started to feel longer than days.


I'd wake up at 3 a.m. for no reason, sit at the edge of the bed, staring at my own reflection in the wardrobe mirror.


It's funny how a mirror can show you the face but never the mind.


My face still looked like the old Dhruve — tired but decent, beard growing a little rough.


But the eyes… they didn't belong to the man who once came home humming songs, excited to see his wife.


One night I muttered at my reflection, "You don't even look like a husband anymore."


Then I laughed at myself. That dry, sharp laugh that scared me a little.


The city outside was silent except for a dog barking in the distance and the humming of the old fridge in the kitchen.


I felt like I was floating in a house that wasn't home anymore.


When I finally crawled back into bed, I noticed her breathing — slow, calm.


I wondered if she ever lay awake thinking about me.


That thought hurt in a way that burned but also hardened me.


I turned my face to the wall and closed my eyes, whispering,


Chapter 34 - Shadows in the Mirror