The Lady Who Wanted To Be A Tramp
Parvati Rudra Pratap Ranawat was that dangerous combination of hurt, angry, and contained. Contained-- because the one her ire was directed at was not at home, and Paro did not believe in washing her dirty linen in public. Hurt and angry-- because of what she had just discovered from her devar, Sumer. Sumer who still had a rather wandering eye where his bhabhi was concerned, had laughingly asked her whether Rudra Banna's late nights were because of BSD work or his mistress, Laila.
Mistress? Laila?
Away from the probing eyes of her in-laws, Parvati sat on her bed-- their bed and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms protectively around them.
She closed her eyes and bit her lip at her folly.
No wonder he wasn't interested in a forced wife. How could he be? When he had a mistress of his own choosing? And one as tempting as Laila?
She distinctly remembered Laila from the sangeet of her first wedding-- the laughing nautch girl with a twinkle in her eyes and a seductive sway to her hips.
Laila-- who was worldly-wise and well-versed in the mysterious ways of men. Hadn't Laila given Paro her first piece of advice about different kinds of men? Another bit of long-forgotten conversation floated in with the wind.
Jaise ki mhara Rudra...
Laila had mentioned a Rudra. And she'd called him HER Rudra.
She tightened her arms around her knees and gasped-- the sound a sharp gash in the stillness around her.
Sumer was not lying.
But where did that leave her? Rudra's wife?
~~~
By the time Rudra came home, Paro had wiped her tears and shored her courage. The longer you let a wound fester, the longer it took to heal. It was best to cauterize it right away.
She noted that he looked exhausted. Paro knew nothing about his work-- he never shared any information-- but she had a niggling feeling that he ought not look so worried and grim all the time if everything was finally falling into place.
Was it guilt then? For deceiving her? Or regret? At having to leave Laila behind?
Either way, it was unbearable.
With brisk, snappy movements, Rudra unhooked his belt, unpinned his badges, and started undoing the buttons of his shirt while holding out his hand for his kurta. A moment later, he glanced at her with a frown.
Parvati stood tall near the bed, making no move to give him so much as a handkerchief-- forget his kurta. Her eyes held an accusatory light-- one that he hadn't seen in months.
"Where were you?"
He narrowed his eyes. He certainly hadn't expected this question.
"At the fair. Where do you think?"
"Don't you dare lie to me."
He could feel his temper beginning to rise.
"Lower your voice. What is the point of this conversation, Parvati?"
He could see the muscles of her slender throat move as she swallowed.
"I know, Major Saab. I know about Laila."
Cricket
Seher Hone Ko Hai
