This is a short sequel to my OS: The Art of War (which I would link to if I could figure out how) This is for Rachna and Sukhi - not exactly what even I had in mind, but hope it satisfies š
Parley, noun: an informal conference between enemies under a truce, especially to discuss terms or conditions of surrender
It was a warm night, and the ceiling fan did little other than to circulate the thick air past his overheated skin. Still, he was reluctant to let her go, this vision in his arms he had given up hope on ever seeing again.
She had turned away from him at some point in her sleep, her delicate shoulder jutting out, her hand draped lazily over the possessive arm with which he circled her waist. Her hair was haphazardly splayed across the pillow (had he undone her bun? He couldn't remember) and he couldn't resist brushing the soft silk off her back to drop a kiss on the back of her neck.
Ragini stirred then, and his name fell off her lips as if it had always been hers to say. He propped himself up on one elbow and watched as she turned to meet his eyes in the near darkness.
"Hi," she whispered.
"Hayeee," he teased. "Kya baat hai."
She let out a breathy chuckle at his dumb joke before ducking her head in embarrassment. "It's your fault, you know."
"Oh?"
Ragini jabbed an accusing finger at his chest. "You and your...eyes, and your...face!"
He couldn't help but laugh at her outburst. "You know Ragini, tumhe kavita likhne chahiye."
She turned back away from him in a huff and he watched the subtle play of her muscles under her soft skin. "My eyes," he continued, "that see you as the most beautiful woman," he ghosted his lips across her shoulder blade. "That still can't believe you're mine and mine alone," he placed a kiss on her neck. "That look at you as a husband should his wife," he whispered into her ear.
He felt her shiver against him. "Nachiket." She sighed his name and the edge of regret in her voice made his heart thump painfully. "This...doesn't change anything."
He moved away from her and sat up, watching warily as she tugged the sheets around her body like a shield. The resentment so quick to spark lately rose to the back of his throat.
"Doesn't change anything? Didn't that mean anything to you? Or am I just here to warm your bed?"
Ragini ran a hand through her hair. "No, of course not! I meant...it doesn't fix anything. Between us," she pleaded.
"Oh of course it doesn't," he dragged his hand over his face. "How stupid of me."
"You know I'm right." Her voice was unsteady as if she was holding back a sob. "I'm still the wife who can't trust her husband to do right by her, and you're still the husband who can't respect his wife."
He was silent then, suddenly disgusted with how he had let himself begin to hope, believing that every time she had breathed his name into his ear or traced her name on his back it had meant something.
"I love you," was all he had left to offer.
"I know," she said as she brushed away the tears he hadn't realized were on his face.
Things were no longer a game between them. It was as if they had both realized there was more at stake here than their fragile egos. They had a family to put back together and maybe, along the way, a relationship to fulfill the way it was meant to be. Perhaps those pheras could be more than just empty promises.
So instead of putting on a front of listening, Nachiket began paying attention.
He noticed how her shoulders would slump ever so slightly after a verbal spat with Aarav, how she refused to look at him when their son came to him with his list of complaints. He realized then that she expected no support from his quarter.
He watched as she tried so desperately to connect with Nishi and give her pearls of wisdom the girl was too young to treasure, instead rebuffing her mother's supposed lectures. He thought about his own grandfather and how patiently he had tried to get Nachiket to see the error of his ways, finally entrusting Ragini to steer him in the right direction when he had failed.
He was never blind to Ranbir's relationship with his mother, but could now hear the sobs she so futilely tried to hide in her pillow under the cover of night. He lay next to her with his eyes open, frustrated and helpless.
Slowly he began to see the toll of carrying that burden alone for the last 18 years.
He tried helping and she tried letting him, staying silent when he scolded Aarav over his grades or invited Jignesh over for dinner against Nishi's wishes. During the inevitable temper tantrum he pulled Ragini away from her door, silencing her protests with a finger to her lips and trying not to notice her eyes darkening in response.
He was no saint, however, and sometimes when the children were out he would pull her into his arms because he could. She would offer no resistance, melting against him until his mouth greeted her ear with all the ways she drove him crazy, stopping only when he finally drew his name from her lips.
He often thought back to that night and how they had ended up in each other's arms one last time, hands unhurried in their travels. He had kissed her long and thoroughly, trying to change her mind the best way he knew how. She had consented with the small sounds from the back of her throat and the long column of her neck arching towards his mouth.
It was a fragile truce formed in darkness, but as the sun rose in the morning, Nachiket was determined to keep the white flag flying.
THE END
Cricket
Udne Ki Aasha
Veer Hanuman
Anupamaa
