Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak,
That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace:
Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.
- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 34
Set sometime after the dishoom dishoom episode.
It was late when he finally heard her come up the stairs, her payal marking her steps in the quiet night. His heart seemed to beat in rhythm with each gentle chime.
She appeared at the door and he couldn't help but stand, his breath catching briefly at the angelic vision in front of him. Her eyes met his for just a moment before dropping towards the ground.
"Come in." His voice was rough from the events of the day, and he cleared his throat before adopting a gentler tone. "Come in, Sumo."
The irony of the request was not lost on Shravan. How many times had he seen her barge into this very room, with no consideration for his privacy?
Suman made her way inside, her steps slow and measured. What was weighing her down, he wondered. The finery and the heavy gold lehenga that still adorned her, or the circumstances that they represented?
"You must be tired," he said. She looked at him then, taking in his t-shirt and pajama attire.
"You have no idea," she sighed. Suman moved towards his vanity and began taking off her large earrings, bangles rustling.
"Go ahead and change. I'll be downstairs for a while." She paused mid-motion and met his gaze in the mirror, her expression unreadable. A dull ache settled in his chest. And then he left, shutting the door behind him.
--
When he returned, she was curled up on his sofa in her pajamas, her bright face scrubbed clean.
"Better?"
"Much better." The small smile she gave him didn't quite reach her eyes. "I hope you don't mind, I grabbed one of your pillows."
"No, of course not," he rushed to reassure her. "But are you...I mean, I should sleep on the sofa, you take the bed."
"Don't be silly, Shravan...it's too short for you."
"No really, I'm used to it."
She raised an eyebrow. "Why would you be used to it?"
Why indeed, he mentally berated himself. "That's where I...work, at home. And I fall asleep...when working."
Suman frowned at his explanation. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, it's sooo comfortable." He found an extra set of sheets in his closet, and together they tucked them into the cushions.
"Well, goodnight then." Suman sat on his bed, hugging her knees. He paused, his hand hovering over the light switch. She looked up at him expectantly.
It was everything he had ever wanted. Suman, his Sumo, her hands still fragrant with the mehndi that bloomed richly in contrast to her fair skin. Her dark hair swept up into a messy bun that his fingers itched to undo. The mangalsutra that draped over her delicate clavicle before finally coming to rest in the valley of her breasts.
But it was all wrong. She shouldn't be here, not like this.
"Goodnight," he replied, and hit the switch, plunging the room into darkness.
--
In case you're wondering, Shravan learned how to think on his feet and lie convincingly in law school.
All comments/constructive criticism welcome, thanks for reading 😊
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