Posted:
OK, I'm bad at writing drabbles because they never stay within 100 words! So technically this is not a drabble. :(
Oh and I'm not even sure what I've wrote except that I wanted a jealous Omkara and hickeys.
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She remembers taking his name the previous night. Once, twice, countless times in varying tones that ranges from a whimper to a scream. However, right now, she can't even find it in herself to blush at the way she had acted as she stares in horror at the picture he has taken to show her.
The dress looks amazing, as expected, curving on her in all the right places. But, the imprints on her back hold her attention. There are clear bite marks on each of her shoulder blade with purple marks running along the side of her spine in a zigzag pattern.
"Yeh aapne kya kiye?" she grips the phone harder in an attempt to control her anger as she accuses him.
"Don't blame it all on me. Tum bhi baraabar shaamil thi issme", he says cheekily.
It does nothing to calm her rising temper.
"It looks horrible!!! Ab hum yeh kaise pehnenge? Sab sawaal karenge aur hum..." She looks at him in distress.
"to kuch aur pehen lo na! itne saare kapde hai. wear something less revealing", he gleefully suggests instead of sympathising. He loves that dress, she looks ravishing in it. He just doesn't want anyone else to see her in that dress so his contrived mind had thought up of an extremely delightful way to stop her from wearing the dress to the function today.
The wheels of her churn fast enough to catch on to his train of thoughts though.
"aapne yeh jaan bujh ke kiye, hai na?" she glares at him.
"Nahi." He averts his eyes as he lies. It confirms her suspicion.
"sach sach bataiye hume", she moves in his line of vision again.
"Ok... Mai nahi chahta ki koi aur tumhe issme dekhe", he admits. She feels a smile creep up as the anger takes a backseat slightly at his confession.
"Aap bewajah jal rahe hai", she calmly states turning back to pick up her concealer with a pensive look.
He yanks her to himself at that, her words hitting their mark, trapping her in his arms. "I'm not jealous. I just don't like others looking at what belongs solely to me", he bends down to whisper in her ear.
She gives in at the husky voice before pushing him away, the anger rising again. "Apni teerchi baato me hume mat uljhaaiye. Hume aapse baat nahi karni hai! Hum khud concealer bhi nahi laga sakte aur na hi kisiko bol sakte hai lagaane! Kare to kya kare? Kitne armaano se humne yeh dress banvaayi thi!" she has tears brimming in her eyes as she turns towards the mirror stare at the already concealed hickeys on her neck.
One look at her crestfallen face with teary eyes and all the satisfaction he feels seeing his marks on her vanishes in a poof of smoke.
"I'm sorry", he apologises half-heartedly. The fact doesn't go unnoticed by his sharp wife.
"No, you're not", she snaps at him irately.
"I am", he insists, taking a step forward to touch. She sidesteps him. "Don't you dare touch me. Or kiss me. I'm too angry right now. Men and their stupid jealousy!"
"But..." he starts only to have his wife turn her back on him and walk off with a huff to the bathroom. He stays there, dejected, quite certain that the bed will be a no-go zone for the night for him.
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Good? Bad? Awful? Let me know! Ready for your chamelis.
This started as a drabble and now I quite convinced that I cannot write drabbles!
Jhanak
