The pedophile

She googled the term first. And then googled the images. A series of filthy, disgusting looking men. Middle aged and criminal looking.
She banged the laptop shut, threw off the lumpy rubber band off her hair and lopped down on the sofa. She wished no one had told her that word. She felt like a criminal, some psychiatry patient. Grrr! Like those fucking gays or murderers.

She checked her phone again. Suneel hadn't messaged. He had exams today. He was always so stressed out during exams. And so brutal later. His 16 year old arms pinning her down as he vented it all out. Not the usual sweet, lovely, experimental, shy boy. Almost a man. Much more man than her useless husband,anyways.

She instinctively looked at his picture on her phone. Balding, grey moustache ( clumsily dyed), hair popping out of his nose. And that tummy, the sweaty shirts and what not.
Her daughter fake smiling next to him. She had inherited her mood swings. All that door banging, screaming, her face stuck to the screen.

They had no idea. No idea what it was like to sit at home and watch those dull sitcoms, read filthy gossip magazines, face the maid's tantrums or haggle with the shopkeepers.

It wasn't like Suneel understood either. But, he al least made an effort. After they were done with fucking, he would cuddle up next to her and smile as she ruffled his hair and talk. She liked his smile. Sweet, innocent, almost apologetic.

She loved how dependent he was on her. How clueless, how utterly unaware of life. The way he answered her messages and calls immediately. The way he winked at her if they ever crosses paths outside. The way he cared.

Pedophile! She wondered if they really understood. If they could ever put a saree clad middle-class housewife's pic among those disgusting men.

She looked back at her phone. Waiting.