His Little Wife- A 4 Part Short (Discontinued)

A scared looking woman wandered around the 17th floor hallways of Lifeline Hospital. Her petite frame barely holding up the stiff muscles of her body. She was dressed in monochromatic black from the priest's collar turtleneck to the high wasted pencil skirt wrapped around her hips like a surgeon's glove. And although a knee length winter coat offered modest coverage, not even a god could deny the shine reflecting off her slender golden legs. Her dazed brown eyes finally found their intended destination.

"Office of the Vice President" read the name plate on the door. She knocked once, waited exactly one minute and fifteen seconds before slowly making an entry creating as less noise as humanly possible.

In front of her was a determined looking man hard at work, his tanned fingers subconsciously fixing his perfectly kept coiffure. The stick straight hair pulled slick back in two directions invited the envy of all mortals and from his overwhelming confidence, anyone could tell this man knew his looks could kill. When he saw the woman enter, he offered a wishy-washy greeting with a nod of the head and a "oh, wife. You're here?" and went back to work.

The wife nodded in return and waited patiently for another few hours for her husband to finish up work. Around 2 in the morning when he finally lifted his head off the computer screen, the wife had fallen fast asleep lounging on the uncomfortable looking woven chair near the window. He smiled as his approached her, taking note of the stark difference between her body language now vs. in waking.

She'd put her hair down for once, a feat not once accomplished in daylight the ten years they'd been married. Her mouth opened and closed alternately as if asking for a kiss. Those dark eye brow went up in surprise when she inhaled and boy were those legs making it impossible for him to stand firm on the concrete ground.

"Madhu", he poked her in the abdomen twice, wanting to nudge her awake. When not a muscle stirred within the minute, he pulled her right leg up his thigh and strategically placed his hand inside her skirt. His rapid movements startled her awake.

"What?" she all but screamed.

"Tsk", he displayed his clear disapproval. "Madhubala be quiet".

Sleep still heavy on her lids, she rubbed her eyes against her shoulder. "Are you okay honey?" This was a rhetorical question, they both knew from experience. Still, she couldn't help but ask feeling this vulnerable under his touch.

"I want you", he whispered simultaneously shutting off the surveillance cameras in the room.

"Bh..bh...bha..i", she stuttered not knowing what else to say. "This is the hospital".

"Tsk", he corrected her. "Not your bhai anymore. 'Pati' say 'pati'. Not your first time wifey, I've been like this ten years already. Hurry up and get used to it".

"Let's go home. I packed a change of clothes so let's get some rest, okay?" This was her last ditch effort to get out of this situation.

"Madhubala, the morning meeting is in two hours. Do you think I will be able to get a wink of sleep in that amount of time? Umm?"

"No, but..."

"But, what?"

She hung her head low not knowing what else to say.

"I want you now". He pulled up skirt over her head and she followed him inside the corner closet in the room.

[Year 2004]

Madhubala Malik was just an ordinary girl trying to survive the rise of Mumbai real estate by climbing up the floors in apartments the new mushroom spring of skyscrapers offered for cheap. And yes, a modest sized condo directly below the penthouse floor was her ultimate goal in life but for now, she'd have to make do living in the ancestral house in the dead suburbs that her deceased mother left behind. Well, atleast she had a handsome boyfriend to boast. The man in her bed was so f**king fine, he could sell as the authentic sculpture of a greek god. Abs to die for and those teasing fingers running circles on her stomach. And when he painted her naked form with blunted brushes, his eyes lit up like a shopping mall on Christmas Eve. Those sparkling hands made magic on the canvass and her bed equally well. And she wasn't ashamed to show him off. "A Pair of Starving Artists" as she named her first novel, she claimed was bound to be a worldwide bestseller. His paintings and her writing made them perfect for each other. There is nothing quite as happy in this world like the unrequited love of a muse being reciprocated. They both knew they were blessed and would have cherished this rare relationship if only that strange sounding man hadn't called that night.

Sooha, or red cat, as his pseudonym went, was tightly snuggled against his muse and girlfriend-for-life Madhubala.

"Candy", he called his sweetheart. "How much longer can I whisper sweet nothings to my love?"

"As long as you want tiger", she laughed. But the laughter didn't last long. The dreaded phone call arrived.

"Red, you have to leave".

"Why?" the poor boy did not understand the urgency of the situation.

"My brother, he's coming home".

"Wait, you have a brother?" Was his woman drugged or just out of it? He'd known her since sixteen. You would think she'd mention her brother by now.

"Umm. My dad and her mum were...in love. They never married but we all stayed together for twelve years. Then, they spilt up".

"Eh?"

"So, what I am saying...he is or was...my stepbrother".

The confused boyfriend hurried into his boxer shorts. "Your dad is really something Madhu. So, why exactly is this idiot looking for you?"

"How on earth would I know? All I remember is that dad and mum, I mean my would-be-stepmum, wanted to get back together before they died".

"f**k, that's complicated".

"Tell me about it!".

"So should I get out of here?"

"Please do".

The much anticipated brother arrived three hours later wearing a well ironed suit and an intimidating stare. "Are you Madhubala?"

"Bhai? What brings you here? What happened all these years? You haven't even called once. You got my Christmas presents and birthday cards right? I even wrote letters for five years but you never responded so I stopped writing. Still, I always sent presents. You got them right? Have you been well?" she seemed excited, nervous, confused all at once.

"Yes, I am Rishabh,once your brother in name. But not anymore, understand?"

She nodded her head slightly as if this was expected.

"I see you've settled in quite well in my mum's property".

"If you want, you can have the keys bhai. I was just living here because of my financial situation. I don't have any intentions to encroach on your rights. I know I called her mom too but yours is the first right so I understand".

He scoffed in mock amusement and his reaction said it all- he had no interest in her small talk or her concerns for his well being, or her admission of useless guilt.

"Madhu.."

"Bhai?"

"Marry me".

Madhubala Malik could not believe her ears. This must be a dream. Some sort of residual nightmare from all the Freudian psychology classes she took in undergraduate.

"I am not asking. I am telling you. Think about it, you never saw me as your brother. Even as kids, you had a crush on me. You fought with all the girlfriends I brought home. You kissed me on the porch every Monday. That night, on your sixteenth birthday when my mum and your dad were going at it, we were so happy they were going to separate, we made out. Remember? And the party after their breakup, we went to a motel together. Madhu, we were never really siblings".

"Bhai!"

"No, not bhai, 'pati'. Repeat after me, 'pati'".

"Pati?"