Posted:
So this came to me rather recently, though it's set way back before the kidnapping track, before the proposal track, before the fake marriage, before the MMS track. Remember Karwa Chauth? That's when this is set, right after the argument where Abhi tells Pragya that real husband-wife relationships are formed behind closed doors.
And yes, I started writing this before the CVs showed us that our girl's fantasies are much hotter and less insipid than this đ
Illusions
a Pragya OS by -mina-
And yes, I started writing this before the CVs showed us that our girl's fantasies are much hotter and less insipid than this đ
Illusions
a Pragya OS by -mina-
Sometimes Pragya had fantasies.
She told herself she shouldn't, that it'd only hurt her in the end
But sometimes she couldn't stop herself.
Sometimes the weight of her everyday life was too much and she needed a few moments of escape.
The night of karwa chauth, "the only true bond between us is of hate" kept ringing in her ears as she tried to prepare for bed. She felt suddenly too listless to take off the heavy sari Daadi had given her to wear. With the vague thought that fresh air might help, she headed out to the balcony that had become her bedroom.
She leaned against the railing, and tried to find peace in the night sky. She could still hear the bitter words echoing in her mind. So she stared up at the almost-full moon, and let herself fantasize about how the night should have gone.
Her fantasies were never about him. They were about her real husband, the one she'd always dreamed of and now surely would never have.
Her real husband was sweet, and kind, and patient. He was humble and soft-spoken. He never called her "Chashmish." Almost never.
Mostly she tried not to think of physical details, but sometimes...Well, sometimes she had a flash of a tall silhouette, or a firmly muscled arm, or a voice made for sin.
Her imagination couldn't be blamed for stealing such little details from reality. It didn't mean anything.
She let the cool breeze caress her face, ignoring the sticky feeling of the tears drying on her cheeks. He was off somewhere with Tanu, having escaped Daadi on the pretext of driving her home. She let that knowledge drift into the locked cupboard in her mind that was too small to hold such truths during the day.
Night didn't make the cupboard any bigger, but somehow it seemed to shrink the truths. Or maybe just hide them.
With her mind thus uncluttered, she focussed on the silver glow of moon and dreamt of what would never be.
She imagined how her real husband would be looking for her after the festivities ended, wondering where she'd gone to while he was busy saying goodbye to guests. He would come to their room and notice her through the balcony doors.
He would come up to stand behind her, but say nothing to disrupt the peaceful silence. At length, he would set his hand on her shoulder and lean close to whisper to her.
"Come inside. It's too cold here," he would say. His lips would brush the shell of her ear as he drew back.
She would laugh softly. She wouldn't answer him.
He would start to rub his hands along her arms, spreading warmth through the embroidered sleeves of her blouse. He would set his chin on the top of her head and just hold her - light and casual and perfect.
He wouldn't be able to see her face, and for one fleeting moment she would squeeze her eyes shut and smile, deliciously overwhelmed by having him so close.
After a comfortable silence he would turn her around to face him. She would be grinning in anticipation, even though nothing had really happened...yet.
He would trail a knuckle down the side of her face, looking deep into her eyes. The breeze would blow a strand of hair across her face, and he would smile and slide the flying curl back behind her ears.
And she would try not to shiver at the innocent, intimate touch. And she would fail.
He would tip her chin up with one hand, and her breath would catch in her throat. He'd settle his other hand on her hip, and she wouldn't show her surprise. She wouldn't.
And he would say, in a low, husky voice, "I forgot to tell you something."
She would arch her eyebrow and demand playfully, "What?"
"You look beautiful tonight."
She would look away then, blushing, because even though this was her dream husband, he didn't often say things like that.
Even in her fantasies, she couldn't imagine a man who would praise her looks just like that.
But on her dream Karwa Chauth...someone would have noticed all the effort she'd put in to dressing for the occasion. Someone other than Daadi and her cousins and random middle-aged guests.
And he would chuckle when she turned away from his compliment, and give her a moment to regroup.
But she still wouldn't say anything. Still wouldn't be able to meet his eyes. Wouldn't be able to handle the tension brewing between them, except by trying to pretend it wasn't there.
His hand would slide up from her hip to her waist, under her aanchal and across her back. He would set his palm flat against her, spreading his fingers against her bare skin.
She would close her eyes again, and bite her lip, and silently pray that he would say more...
And he would tug her close. Tip her head up again and make her look at him.
And she wouldn't be able to hide from him, from the desire in his eyes or the question on his lips.
"It's been long enough, don't you think?"
And he wouldn't be talking about the cold night air.
And nothing else would need to be said.
And she would nod, and turn to face their room, so that he would understand that she agreed.
And the rest of the night...
...The rest of the night was beyond anything she could fantasize about.
Imagination had its limits, after all. Her entire understanding of romance came only from books. Even when she wanted to, she could not take herself beyond that one moment of accepting the invitation.
And so, that night of her first karwa chauth, her real one with her false husband, her fantasy ended.
And she was alone on the balcony, her skin chilled and her pulse leaping.
And no one would tell her she was beautiful that night.
And no one would invite her to bed.
She blinked to get the moonlight out of her eyes, and embraced the inevitable crash of disillusionment.
She always expected it, but that never made it hurt less.
And in that first searing moment, the only thought she could hold onto was that the few minutes of escape hadn't been worth it, after all.
But the moment passed. And as she turned to leave the balcony, she knew that she wouldn't be able to stop herself next time, either.
~the end~
Anupamaa
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
