A Shivya FF UPDATE- Part FOUR- A

"Yes, Mr. Gupta... yes sir...ah... of course..." he grit his teeth, wishing he could smash a hole the size of his fist into the wall next to him as he paced back and forth, "No sir... it won't be a problem... yes, Good night" he swiped his finger across the screen to end the call before hurling the shiny black brick onto his bed, almost hoping the damn thing would ricochet onto the floor and smash. It was Saturday and his boss at Sunhara Enterprises had actually made a personal call to him; for the first time since he had worked there he had actually been personally commissioned by the man to deliver a presentation to a close business partner of his. A relatively well known company called Action Corp was something he could have only dreamt of being involved with and yet now he found himself almost dreading the outcome. It was practically unheard of for the haughty man to give any of his staff such an opportunity and considering the plans Shivam had carved out for himself, he really didn't have any choice but to accept. He flopped onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling fan as his straight hair fell over his eyes and swallowed hard; Shivam replayed the conversation in his mind just knowing that this would end catastrophically somehow. "Your work has been exemplary these past few months Shivam... so I'm depending on you to get our products on this client's radar. This guy is big bucks and I don't want to lose him by sending anyone else. There is one more thing, however... you may not like it but it's what I need you to do. I've heard the rumours pertaining to you and your wife and quite frankly I don't really care for the truth; your personal problems are not my problems. I know you have worked well together in the past and all I want to know is can you work together now?... Keep in mind that if you get this client I will personally see to it that you receive the remainder of the funding you need for your training and courses... that's how important this client is... So... I will expect you and your wife to be fully prepared in less than one month's time and you can assure me it wont pose a problem?"

Shivam threw his arm over his face and sighed out in quiet exasperation at his predicament even though he knew why Gupta was offering him the opportunity. In an attempt to escape the hellish atmosphere at home, he had worked extra shifts from early in the cold mornings before any of his colleagues had even made their way to work to late in the evenings, exhausted and weary to his bare bones. His broad chest rose and fell deeply as he thought about her pinned against the wall, the golden light seeping into her pretty irises as he had suckled and feasted on her mouth. Holy f**k, what am I going to do? He swallowed again, his black trousers feeling tight below his hips as the needful ache in his abdomen spread all the way to his tingling fingers, as though his nerve endings had memorised the feel of her need for him. It had been almost a week of waking up in the twilight hours before dawn and returning home only to hide himself away in his room as he tried everything to avoid her. Even though he had missed dinner with the family every night since, he had found the tiffins of food left in his room after returning from his shower, her signature left all over the place by the way she dished it out in the quantities she knew he liked. His mother had complained to him at first, determined to get him to sit at the table with the rest of them as Riya looked on from her corner. He couldn't do it anymore; he had barely been able to eat infront of her before he had lost his mind on the balcony but now he felt so disgusted with himself he didn't want to eat even if he knew she had eaten before himself. He had tasted her, loved her with his body only to shun her yet again; would it be any wonder if she felt like he had used her for his sole pleasure? He was convinced that she had been disgusted by his behaviour having never kissed her with such voracity. It didn't matter that she keened into him or had wrapped her arms around his neck, because of course his own arousal had swept her along with him... but what had he done after? He had spat out more acidic words, telling her that she shouldn't try to make more of it than it was. Hadn't he essentially admitted that he had simply used her to satiate his desire in the moment? That it hadn't been about love or tenderness? When the truth was the only reason he had slammed himself into her was because he loved her, because he couldn't stand the tears and her self-degradation and if his body had had other ideas then it couldn't be helped. He was a man and he had needs; looking at her pretty eyes and those heart shaped lips every day without any form of relief except his midnight imaginings had turned him into a coiled ball of tension. After the maelstrom of the feverish kisses had died down he was sure that in the clear light of day she could be nothing but repulsed by his lecherous behaviour. Didn't women want tenderness... soft caresses and gentleness? Yet what had he done? He had mauled her, bruised her lips with his desperate kisses as his teeth had raked against her lips and skin erotically...God... he had even pulled at her clothes, baring her skin to him so exposed and out in the open... How the hell was he supposed to look her in the face again? And yet she continued to leave food for him in his room making him feel even worse, as if she could pretend that nothing had happened. Well he couldn't; he felt ashamed of himself because no matter how he had behaved, no matter how much he desired her he would not have her. It couldn't happen again goddammit. As if that hadn't complicated matters enough between them, he was sure that his behaviour with her would have given her hope. Hope that he was softening; that he would take her back and love her the way she needed to be loved. He shook his head feeling sick with himself; he would have to take steps to rectify that because the last thing he wanted was for her to begin to believe that he was anything but the piece of shit that he was behaving as. And he was; even if it was all a f**king pretence, even if he wished he could gather her onto his lap and bury his face in her hair, he was the asshole. He had to be.

He hadn't even gotten over what had happened six short days ago and now his boss had essentially ordered him to work on a major presentation with a wife he wanted to f**k and lick and suck but wasn't even speaking to. Eventually he would have to tell her the news and if she didn't agree after the way he had behaved with her then he would just have to convince Gupta to give him a chance and allow him to rope the client in by himself. Either way... whatever had happened on the balcony wouldn't be happening again.

He easily swung himself upright, the chiselled muscles of his abdomen keeping the movement smooth and seemingly effortless as he sat up again. It hadn't just been his work efforts that had improved and put him dead centre on the boss's radar; his permanently tense state of being and mind had propelled him to tear and rebuild every plane of muscle in his body with the vigorous workout sessions he had imposed on himself. If anything it had been a method of catharsis, sweating out the rippling lust and twisting heartache out of his body at least for those few hours everyday. He felt healthier, fitter and stronger than he ever had before even if he was exhausted beyond belief; his food intake had decreased, however, he kept his high metabolism up by consuming lean protein and vegetables whilst avoiding the heavy aloo parathas that his mother used to make for him especially. It seemed that Riya had been the only one aware in the change of his eating habits; not only a few times in the last month or so had he found tiffins full of cooked meat in snack size chunks left in his room. When he had tasted it the first time, his mouth had instantly watered and he hadn't known who had cooked it until he had spied her in the kitchen in the twilight hours of the morning before work, sauteing the meat in the delicious spices. She had looked tired, still in her night sari as she rushed about the kitchen as quietly as she could and he had had the urge to walk in on her, to wrap his arms around her waist from behind and kiss her neck; that would have stopped her ridiculous but sweet morning adventures in the kitchen just to feed him. His heart had both ached and raged at itself when he saw her; her efforts surely wasted on a jerk like him. He hadn't acknowledged it and he certainly hadn't thanked her for it, however, neither had he been able to leave the food behind after seeing for himself how early she would wake to cook for him. And so he took the small tiffin to work whenever he found it sitting on the dressing table after his shower; it was invariably the only times he would have lunch at the office even as Bunty would look at him with accusation in her eyes making it all that more difficult to swallow the juicy meat. It was only natural that her best friend hated him; in all honesty he welcomed it, was even proud that the spritely girl loved Riya enough to scorn him. From the way Riya used to talk about her to him he had come to believe they were more like sisters than friends and it had been something that never bothered him; in fact, he was grateful that she had such a close friend having grown up as an only child. At least she had someone on her side to confide in who wasn't completely f**king insane and viperous. Bunty had tried to confront him almost over a month ago, intercepting him in the bustling city centre whilst on his way to a stall and he had made sure she understood just how little he gave a damn about Riya. The look of disgust on her face had had a curious effect on him, both warming his heart and shrivelling it at the same time; he was thankful that Riya had someone who had her back, who loved her enough to put herself out there even as he had insulted Bunty and told her to go marry Riya herself if she loved her so much. God... that had been a low blow but he knew she would report back to Riya and sure enough his wife had greeted him with the most stunning and animated angry scowl the moment he had returned home from work. Even now he could remember her words to him, slicing through him like a hot knife. "I know you're angry with me Shivam... I know you probably hate the sight of me and never want to see me again... but did you have to be so rude to Bunty? She is only being my friend..." When she had talked about his hating the sight of her and never seeing her again, he had felt his stomach twist in such unpleasantness that he had snapped back at her, bringing tears to her eyes yet again even as he had regretted it. "It doesn't make a difference to me whether you're here or not, let alone hate the sight of you. And if you don't want me to be rude to Bunty then you should tell her to mind her own business... tell her to get a life of her own. In fact, why don't you go and join her if you're so sure I don't want to see you again." He hadn't been able to relax his jaw as he spoke the acerbic words knowing exactly how vicious he sounded; if he hadn't been mistaken he was sure she had chosen to stay in Shanti Sadan out of her stubbornness and anger at him, at least in that moment. Even as he had hoped she would pack her things and leave Narak Sadan he had been infinitely relieved that she was still there the following morning, the feeling so acute that he was sure he had taken his first real breath upon seeing her curled up form on the lower terrace since they had spoken to one another.

Shivam shook his head for a second in the hopes of dislodging the memories from his head brimming with her; by the sounds of things they had company downstairs even if he already knew it was buaji with her shrill and whiny voice permeating through the house.

*

"Preeti, beta... go and bring me some juice. My mouth is so dry walking all the way to Shanti Sadan... quickly now huh... and bring whatever food you have! Amit hasn't had anything to eat all day either" the woman glanced at Shanti before continuing, "the poor boy works hard and barely eats, you know Amma" Riya watched as Preeti's mouth twisted into a bitter grimace and she mentally prepared herself for what was to come. "Of course Buaji, I never left Shanti Sadan so please, continue treating me like your servant. My husband is one anyway. You walked all the way from your house, god forbid you walk to the kitchen" Riya was sure she would have actually laughed out loud in surprise had she not been completely taken back by Preeti's new depths of bitterness; if she wasn't careful Preeti would one day look in the mirror only to see a younger version of her buaji even if buaji fully deserved the dressing down. "Preeti! Enough of your nonsense! What is wrong with you?! She is your bua, you have always brought her food and drink, what is the big problem now you are married?" Riya carried on sifting the bright orange lentils, occasionally looking up as she watched yet another drama unfold within these four walls. "Ma... if you want to be buaji's slave for the rest of your life then go ahead. Like you said, I'm married now. You forced me to marry a man who looks like a beggar so I'm stuck in this house. But don't expect me to act like one... you love buaji so much, you serve her. Like you always do ma" with that she turned away to head back to her hole that was her bedroom, leaving three mouths opening and closing like fish out of water as Chanda watched quietly from her perch next to dadi. Riya watched in mild disgust as Mummyji rushed to the kitchen to arrange for bauji's usual array of home-made snacks as she muttered incoherently at her daughter's audacious words. She might have felt sorry for Mummyji when she had first gotten to know her, but her pity had soon turned to a kind of hopeless acceptance that mummyji seemed to rather enjoy doting on her sister-in-law and Ammaji; no matter how much they berated her or insulted her to her face, she took it with a smile and genuinely didn't seem to mind how they behaved with her. If Mummyji wasn't suffering because of it then who was she to feel sorry for her? The woman obviously had the ability to shout and the confidence to make her feel small and insignificant and so she simply couldn't believe that Shivam's mother was as innocent and docile as her children seemed to think. Maybe it was the advantage of being an objective observer, someone new with a fresh set of eyes but either way it didn't matter; as far as this family was concerned she was the snake and knew nothing of maintaining relationships when the truth was it was all she had wanted to do. That, and getting closer to her husband.

Every single time she thought of him, even for a second, her heart started hammering. The memory of his full mouth and heated body pressing into her as he had sought out her skin and tongue and hair made her throat ache. He had never kissed her like that before. She had read about it, sure. Long before she had met Shivam, she had flipped through the pages of her taboo romance books in the dead of night; her small lamp by her bedside table as Sahil and dad snored blissfully asleep in their rooms. Yes, she had read about heated kisses that seemed to last for hours, she had bit her lip imagining what it would feel like to be kissed and touched like that but knowing that it would never happen. But by the goddess, her imaginings and fantasies hadn't even come close to the truth of how her body had reacted. Her breathing hadn't understood the concept of rhythm anymore, breathing out air and sucking in his breath into her lungs almost at the same time, unable to breathe in enough of him. Had she known her breasts could ache the way they had she would have long ago pressed her body into him every chance she could; she had been sure they had swelled with the sensation of his rock hard chest and his heart thumping into her and through their clothes. She couldn't stop reliving the the erotic way he had pushed his hard length into her belly, making her abdominal muscles contract and shiver in anticipation of what her body instinctively understood. Her nipples had hardened painfully the moment he had pulled her veil away from her body, his super heated hands roaming all over her bare waist; she had been so self-conscious that he would notice the change in her breasts that she had pulled the veil back, not wanting to appear wanton. As if pushing and grinding herself against him hadn't already made it very clear just how much she had wanted him! And so after he had pulled away so suddenly, accusing her of seducing him and making her feel that they had done something wrong was it any wonder that she had felt ashamed of herself? Was it even normal for a husband and wife to kiss each other like that? She had lost all sense of self-preservation as she completely lost herself in his heat and intensely masculine scent. Even now she felt the flush over her cheeks as she remembered how she had thrust her tongue into his hot mouth. I can't believe I actually did that... she groaned inwardly with embarrassment for the hundredth time in the last six days since it happened. She hadn't meant to be so forward; her body had simply taken over and reacted to his hunger and all she had wanted to do was please him, mesh with him. His tongue had been lapping at hers, caressing over her lips before sucking on her own tongue as he tried to coax her to relax and let him take over. She had always known that he was the dominant half in the relationship; even if he respected her enough to listen to her opinions and took care of her, there was still an aspect to him that made her feel like he was her alpha, hard and strong and in control. However, never would she have guessed that that dominance was part of his obvious need to dominate her in the bedroom; his confident hands and his movements had drawn out such desperately feminine sounds from her lungs that she never knew she was capable of making. Even in her lust filled haze she recognised the miniscule signs of tenderness as the deep moans of his voice had given away his need to meld with her. He might have only wanted her on a physical level but she couldn't ignore the way he had made her feel desirable, nibbling on her lips in-between his voracious hunger for her. Stop it Riya. Stop! She mentally chastised herself trying with all her might to blank her mind; she was already aroused just remembering that late afternoon, she didn't need to make a spectacle of herself infront of the whole family! Remember what he told you afterwards. He still doesn't want me here. He doesn't even want me to look at him. Riya tried to remember the things he had said to her in the aftermath, her lips swollen and needing more. And even if she remembered every single word and how each one had stabbed her in the heart after the way he had held her she still couldn't shake the overpowering and eclipsing memory of his touch. She had finally been ready to go, to pack her small suitcase and leave Shanti Sadan, to leave the man she loved more than life itself; to let him be happy in his new life without her. The wracking tears that had left her lungs as she had leaned against the balcony wall had blistered through her soul, only making her realise just how insignificant she was to him. And then he had sought her out, he had gone and kissed her again... and confusing the hell out of her. Even if he hadn't meant to, even if he had simply been responding to his body's need to touch her she couldn't bring herself to leave. Not now. She had promised herself that she would only go if she was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he truly didn't love her. Well... she wasn't convinced. She hated that she had let herself sink so low, that she was allowing him to play with her feelings like this... but what the hell was she supposed to do? She was in love with him. She was suffering from an affliction that turned people imbecilic and desperate and the truth was if he hadn't have kissed her, she would be gone by now. His words had said one thing and yet his actions had said another... and until the two matched she would never know the truth of what was going on with him.

Riya returned back to the present, unsure as to how much time had passed since her heated and feverish thoughts had taken over. Preeti had long gone and now she could feel the uneasy sensation of unwanted eyes on her. She looked in the direction her intuition had sent her, regretting it almost immediately as her eyes connected with Amit's, his own eyes looking unpleasantly severe and crude at the same time. He made her skin crawl and not for the first time had she thanked God himself for escaping a marriage with him; surely a life of pure hell, her present situation would no doubt look like a walk in a meadow compared to what she would have had to endure with a man like him and a mother-in-law like buaji. She looked away almost as soon as their eyes met, knowing that he was still staring at her and wishing Shivam was nearby. Even if everyone knew they were no longer living as husband and wife, she was sure Amit wouldn't have the gall to stare at her so conspicuously infront of Shivam. She liked that Shivam intimidated him even if he would never admit it; afterall he had always been a coward with a nasty greedy streak that mirrored that of his mother's. The ache in her throat and her heart hit her out of nowhere as she felt the sting in her eyes threatening to turn into tears. I miss you... I miss the way you used to protect me from the world... I miss my hand in yours... He had always taken care of her, even if he had been angry with her he had never let her fend for herself or struggle alone. If she sprained her ankle he would be there to lift her up, if a man came onto her or inserted himself into her space he was there to fend them off; the number of times he had stood up to their manager at Sunhara Enterprises alone was testament enough that he would never have allowed another to mistreat her. Hadn't Mr. Gupta berated her and scolded her infront of the entire staff on occasion? And what had Shivam done but force the man to back off, going so far as to ask him to apologise even if he had outright refused. He had kept her safely tucked away in the palm of his hands and the centre of his beating heart and she had felt like the most cherished woman in all the world. It was what had made the last several months unbearable, the sudden change in his personality had crushed her heart as if he had been demolishing and stripping it bare layer by layer until there was only a raw agony left behind. She would never be able to understand how a man who loved her so completely had turned into someone she barely recognised anymore. And yet... the way he had carried her up the stairs after hurting her palm... the love with which he had dressed her wound and the way he had kissed her and touched her... he had even cleaned up the mess she had made in the kitchen long before she had woken up. It reminded her of the wound on his own hand and she wondered if he had cut himself just as she had; however, he hadn't let her anywhere near him after their heated coupling against the balcony wall, neither had she the courage to seek him out lest she see the look of disgust in his eyes at her behaviour with him. She could see remnants of her Shivam as well as parts of Shivam she had never thought existed; the passion that he had unleashed on her lately had sent her into a tailspin, unsure of what the hell it all meant and if her battered heart was simply beating out a desperate message of hope in its naivety.

*

Even as he walked down the concrete stairs he couldn't help but look at his cousin, the man's lascivious eyes already snaking over his wife as he watched her from the shadows like a bad omen. Every time he looked at him he could practically taste the bile in his throat; the man gave meaning to the word revulsion and since having found out he bet his own wife in a game of cards he was sure he would have dragged him over a f**king cliff had he not been his own cousin. In all honesty he didn't give a damn what familial relationship he shared with the lowlife, but it didn't mean he could ignore how much he meant to his dad or the rest of the family. He couldn't deny that it still hurt that his own father seemed to trust and love his sister's son more than his own, however, he had long ago accepted it and he tried to focus on not caring whether his father approved of him or not anymore. It didn't seem to matter what he did or didn't do; "Guard" Raghav was never happy with his own son and so it was only natural that Shivam felt the vast chasm between himself and the man he called Papaji grow a little more each day. He mumbled a perfunctory welcome to buaji, never taking his eyes off Amit until he himself finally looked at the object of his cousin's attentions. At the object of his incessant thoughts these past few days, as though she had physically become part of his brain and heart. She was sat in the corner of the communal room looking like some unwanted cast off, her gorgeous cheeks aflame and pink as she fidgeted with the lentils in her discomfort. Shivam swung his eyes back to Amit, the pig hadn't even registered his presence as he continued to ogle his wife without shame; before he even realised what he was doing, he walked straight ahead and blocked the man's view of Riya. What he hadn't counted on was ending up stood right next to Chanda. Almost in comical slow motion he watched as Chanda's face flushed and Amit's face paled as if one had sucked the blood right out of the other; he would have inwardly smirked if he hadn't been all to ready to grab Amit by his hair and ram his face into the same wooden pillar he was leaning into.

"Aah... look how Shivam and Chanda look so lovely together, eh Sarla? I tell you, you brought a blessing into this house by finding this girl. Just by looking at her I feel like she has undone all the bad omens that the previous bahu brought into my house..." Shivam inwardly contracted at her words, describing Riya as a "previous" anything went against everything real and true within him. He couldn't even stand Amit staring at her from across the room, never mind thinking of her as his previous wife. As far as he was concerned she was still his even if he was acting like a hypocritical bas***d; tearing at her clothes one minute, tasting her mouth the next only to verbally reject and dismiss her like she was a mere piece of lint to him. She wasn't his previous anything as far as he was concerned and his Dadi-ji could go straight to hell. However, Shivam kept his mouth shut; despite how much he missed her and needed her close to him, he loved her too much to selfishly keep her in this house. And so he simply forced the wretched smile on his face, smiling at no one in particular and making sure that Riya could see him even as he felt ill doing it. He didn't look at her; he couldn't, not when he knew he was hurting her yet again after the last time they had been alone and so instead he turned his hatred onto Amit's still pale face and giving that useless waste of space his full attention. "So Amit... how is your wife these days? Have you been spoiling her with all that money Bua-ji says you've been earning... or are you still trying to make money out of her?" Shivam couldn't help the tight and hateful smile on his face as Amit's glare turned murderous. That's right you piece of shit. Come at me and see what I do to you. Stare at her one more time and just give me one more reason to smack that damned face right off your skull. Shivam curled his lips back for a split second as he fisted his palm unconsciously before levelling his features once more lest his entire family guess his thoughts. His question had no doubt been rude and inappropriate but after having seen him stare so unashamedly at Riya yet again he couldn't help the hatred flowing out of his mouth. He was barely keeping his patience in check after the recent and heated events with Riya and seeing him look at her with anything but brotherly love was like dangling raw meat infront of a lion. "Ah... Shivam... betaaa... How are you, beta? We have barely seen you at Shanti Sadan when we visit. You shouldn't be working so hard, huh? You are still young... you have a lot to give, huh? You are such a good-looking boy, you shouldn't get so angry all the time. But...uh...em..." Shivam narrowed his eyes at her as she seemed to realise her slip, his aunt's eyes turning into orbs as she looked back and forth from him to Chanda. "Of course you are not always angry... he has such a good heart, doesn't he Amma? And so hard working! He needs someone to look after him, cook tasty food for him. If he had had a wife to take good care of him he wouldn't be so angry..." her sing-song voice grated on his already raw nerves, his own eyes naturally swinging to Riya as her face dropped in unending sadness and keeping her eyes cast down; her small fingers were barely sifting through the lentils as she tried to keep the facade up. "You are right didi... he has been working too much these days. He is so tense... my poor boy can't even live in his own home because of this woman. She just sits there in the corner ominously like a ghost doing nothing but watch us all day... I curse the day she walked into this house..." he felt the sudden shock and sting hit the base of his skull at his mother's cold and cruel words, not able to process how the same mother who had so lovingly given Riya her mother's necklace now practically laughed at her infront of the whole world. He knew where the change had started even if he hadn't wanted to accept it in the beginning; his dadi had spent half a lifetime making his mother feel like she owed her her life and it seemed that now she actually believed she did. Even sacrificing the happiness of her son and daughters to do it. The realisation hadn't escaped him even if he still couldn't help but pity her, but goddammit, she wasn't making it easy for him to continue feeling sorry for her; these days she seemed fully capable of standing up for herself even if her target was Riya in her vastly vulnerable state. His once sweet and gentle mother had changed, of that he was sure. "Ha! Hahahaha!... I am surprised to hear you say this babhi! Shabash! She really does look like a ghost in that old sari... Heeheehee! Her own husband can't bear to look at her, never mind us. Shameful girl... I don't know what she is doing here... chi chi chi..." Shivam kept his head turned down even as his arctic and hard eyes turned to buaji, every syllable and vowel spewing from her foul thoughts and out through her ugly mouth making him want to roar the roof down as she continued her shrill cackling at Riya's expense. He sucked the air in through his nose, filling his lungs up until he took as a calming a breath out as he could before speaking in controlled tones and letting only a crack of a smile barely touch his face, "Bua-ji... I hear Phufa-ji has set up a new stall with Nirmala. I met her once, she's a lovely woman. She takes good care of him, making sure he eats and drinks while they work close together all day. He always seems his happiest when I see them together, you must be proud he found the perfect business partner, Buaji" he smiled at her again, the fabricated warmth only touching his lips and never reaching his eyes; he felt the lightness touch his heart as he watched the rancor for him suffuse her face. "And now I hear Nirmala is living with you and Phufa-ji at the Railway Colony? She must be just like a member of the family... a Choti Ma for Rani babhi, no? You're lucky to have her. We all know how much you hate cooking, now she can take over and feed your family instead... Phufa-ji will love home cooked food other than ma's. Amit too, Im sure..." He couldn't help but sneak a peek at Riya's face even for a second needing to know that his words to buaji had wiped the pain off her face. He spied the tiniest tug of her mouth turned up at the corner before she hid it away as her eyes remained cast down. Just seeing the whisper of a smile on her face as he verbally stripped buaji had made his heart soar. If his dadi was the witch then his bua was the foul bubbling cauldron that she stirred night and day; both of them could go f**k themselves if they thought he would let them cackle in their glee at his wife's expense even as he stood right there. Yes, he had wanted to drive Riya out of Shanti Sadan and up until a few days ago he would have forced himself to endure his entire family spewing their verbal acid at her. But something had shifted in him since he had let his guard down and allowed himself to touch her, to love her if only with his hands and his lips. If anyone was going to hurt her now it would be him and as hypocritical as that sounded he didn't care anymore; he couldn't stand the way they ripped her to shreds right in front of him. He couldn't stand it before and yet now even in his need to protect her from a life of misery in this place, he had at some point decided that he would shield her as best he could from their combined viciousness. He didn't need them to drive her out; he was doing a fantastic f**king job of that himself wasn't he? Afterall wasn't it he that hurt her the most every time he insulted her and shouted at her? If he had to drive her out, he would commit the sin of hurting her himself, otherwise the rest of them could all go to hell; she was his and only his to drive out. He didn't dare linger on her face in case she turned up to look at him and so he looked back to his bua's face, the hateful scowl over her lips as her beady eyes bore into him barely making a dent in his countenance. He didn't give a shit; she could stare all she wanted, if she wanted to play dirty then it wasn't beneath him either. It was then in the middle of their silent staring contest that dadi interjected, her usual taunts directed at Riya yet again and no doubt in an attempt to dissipate the unexpressed belligerence between an aunt and her nephew. "You really are a bad omen in this house Riya, look how horrible the atmosphere becomes when you are around. Even now you dress like a dead bride... wandering the house like a ghost. Maybe you really did throw yourself in the Ganges and we just didn't know!" She cackled in her foul and viperous sense of humour, encouraging her audience to chuckle along with her as in one fell swoop she brought tears to Riya's eyes again. His fists clenched as the mental image of his hands wrapped around dadi-ji's throat solidified in his head for the first time in his life and yet still he somehow said nothing. "Aren't you fedup of these clothes? Don't you want to go back home and live your life? Look at what a sad state you are, such a shame how you have ended up and it is all your own fault... tssst tsst..." Shivam heard dadi end her piece as she clicked her tongue in derision, his eyes still fixed on Riya as she turned her pretty eyes up to the old hag. Even as he was finally about to open his mouth and shut his dadi up for the first time in his life, knowing that his scolding her would cause yet more drama to ensue, he found himself interrupted by the only beautiful heart in the entire room. His heart swelled with pride and a touch of humour as he took in her confident words even if he hadn't missed the embarrassment she must have felt as they laughed at her infront of him. "Dadi-ji... you didn't like it when I dressed in my normal clothes, you wanted me to wear saris every day. Even then I wasn't behaving like the perfect bahu. Now you don't like it when I wear the same clothes as you. Even when I am learning to cook and clean and look after a family... still I go to work and earn a salary. What should I do next? Wear a mini skirt or some shorts? Nothing will make you happy, so I may as well haunt you like a ghost... at least if you try to kill me in my sleep, I'll already be dead so you'll never be able to get rid of me" with that she offered dadiji her most dazzling smile even if he hadn't missed the heart breaking tears that she swiped away with the back of her hand, leaving the old woman sputtering in outrage at her brash response. God... he was so proud of her; even as she was being verbally bashed she was confident enough to talk back and defend herself. He had been ready to defend her no matter how it had appeared to his family... or even to her; the old crone had crossed the f**king line by talking about death and ghosts and his heart had clenched at the mere thought of it. What the hell was wrong with this woman? Was there a lump of dead coal where her heart should be? Riya was exactly what his dadi needed; a strong, confident woman who could hold her own and return his dadi's particular brand of kindness. He mentally shook the thoughts out of his head needing to halt the rage in its tracks, his mind now already conjuring up images to match his wife's evocative words. Shivam's eyes darkened at her earlier innocent words; images of his wife's incredible body garbed in the small tight clothes he had often seen affluent women in the city wearing on their way to work or rushing from one high rise building to the next in their busy schedules. He had looked; he was a man... but he never really lingered or paid much attention other than a passing glance. However, now as he pictured Riya dressed like that just for him and preferably alone and in the privacy of their bedroom, his blood started to heat and race all at the same time. He truly hated those damned saris she insisted on wearing, for once agreeing with his dadi on something if only for entirely different reasons. He had nearly walked in on her once, catching himself just in time or too soon depending on your perspective as she had been drying herself fresh out of the shower. He had entered the small washroom suite connected to their bedroom for their personal use as husband and wife. He had turned back around so quickly at her stern voice telling him that she was inside, almost giving himself whiplash. However, he had had a blessed glimpse of her silhouette through the frosted glass partition in the billowing steam of the room and he was sure his brain had turned to mush, already memorising each perfect curve from her shapely hips to the incredibly sexy swell of her breasts. He had ached to simply walk in, to take his fill with his eyes and let her squirm infront of him; to watch the pretty blush effuse her beautiful cheeks and sink into her chest and lower still as he took her in. But of course he hadn't, simply walking out as his own erection drove him f**king mad with desire at just a glimpse of her and only wanting to respect her privacy so early in the relationship. He had soothed himself in the belief that they would eventually become physically intimate in time, when she was ready and less shy but of course that hadn't happened; not with his screwed up family constantly trying to sabotage everything they shared with one another. And by just shy of an entire year it was too damned late wasn't it? By then he had decided to get her out himself... on the one hand glad for her that he hadn't touched her, that he hadn't taken her virginity... and on the other hand loathing himself for having not touched his own wife, for having not shown her just what she did to him or how well he could love her with his body as well as his heart. Was it any f**king wonder that he was permanently angry? What the hell kind of man wouldn't be?! The sexual and emotional frustration had taken its toll and of course he had taken it out on her, using her as his muse to convince her that he was the worst possible man on the face of the planet; that she deserved better than him. She did... God... she deserved so much better and still she held on to him like he was her water and air. He stared at her now, his throat going dry as his heart reacted to her sweet innocence and softness and his body reacted to the images of her dressed in little else but scraps of silks that he would choose for her. He wondered if things had been different, if they had been happy and whole and allowed to be the way they were meant to be... he wondered if she would let him buy her such things to wear for him, if she would enjoy the way he ached to touch her and make her body soar as he whispered tender sweet nothings into her ear...or things that would make her blush and squirm for more even in her embarrassment. He wondered what could have been. From their recent and intensely heated encounters with one another he had for a moment no doubt that she wanted him the way he wanted her... but it only served to break his already broken heart into smaller pieces knowing that it would never be. He let his heart ache out the painful thudding in his chest before tearing his eyes and aroused thoughts away from her, amazed that not having even touched her or spoken to her in six days that she could have such an intense effect on him. She was his drug and she didn't even know it and... he couldn't let her know it.

"Besharam! Chi! What a disgusting thing to say... mini skirts! Are you listening Shivam? This is the kind of shameless person you married. Thank god you signed the divorce papers... this modern shameful woman would have ruined your life. Mark my words... God has saved you from such an ominous alliance... look at Chanda here. Such a good girl, always wearing colourful saris and looking beautiful. Such a sanskari girl... oh if only you were the bahu of this house Chandaaa... we would have the Goddess' blessings showered on us!" He had had enough, his patience almost obsolete before he put his dadi back in her place this time, "Dadiji... I really don't care about pretty saris or sanskari people; with all respect that is for your generation" As much respect as I can fit through the eye of a needle, maybe... he thought bitterly feeling not even a particle of respect for the old harpy. "There are more important things in life than being cultured and wearing saris... like having a good heart and being a genuine person" he rushed through the words knowing they were falling on deaf and baffled ears, "and speaking of saris... wasn't it you who gave them to Chanda?" He had really had enough of everyone singing the woman's praises; even if Riya hadn't been here he would have been ready to lay out some home truths. "She came here from nowhere... buaji says she is Phufa-ji's relation and yet he hasn't come to visit her once. It's strange isn't it? We don't know who her parents are, why other members of phufaji's family haven't come to look for her. You just accept her into this house without checking who she is... I'm surprised after what happened with Mohit staying in this house and messing around with Preeti right under our noses. But what do I know? I may want Riya gone dadiji, but even I will admit that she had warned us. She had told us not to let Mohit or Nandu stay here with two young girls in the house and we ignored her anyway. Now you are letting another stranger live here without even knowing where she comes from?... If something goes wrong dadiji, don't blame Riya this time..." He stood up then, feeling his anger start to wind and coil in his insides at the insipid stupidity of the people around him, wishing that he himself hadn't been part of that ignorance when he had ignored his wife's warnings and trusted the bas***ds who had lived under their roof like unassuming family members. One had eventually kidnapped his sister and half married her and the other had obviously taken full advantage of her vulnerability and given her no choice but to marry him. Even as he had protested, his father had roared at him, calling him all manner of insults and insinuating his immaturity for not forcing Preeti to marry a man she couldn't even stand the sight of. Well it was done now and the decision had never been his to begin with, his sage and wise father killing two birds with one stone; he had married his eldest daughter off and shut her out of his life in the process. That way he would never have to face the truth of his own failures as a father reflected back to him in her eyes. The man had worked damn hard all his life, earning enough to put food on the table and to help his mother to buy Shanti Sadan; but the truth was that Shivam would have gladly traded it all away to have a father who had been present and interested in his and his sisters' lives even if they had lived in a smaller house and struggled more than necessary. He would have given anything to have a father who truly loved him, who was proud of him and trusted him than the man who walked in the front door every other day looking half asleep and miserable with his life. Shivam could count on his one hand the number of times his father had truly smiled at him from the depths of his heart; life was too short to be this way, of that he was sure. And so his need to get Riya the hell away from these people had only solidified. He still wasn't entirely sure if he could leave his mother alone to fend for herself amongst the sharks even if he suspected she was slowly learning their ways... but in the meantime Riya had to leave. She was already a mere shadow of her former self, of the beautiful sprite filled with mischievousness and the impetuousness that he so adored. If she stayed here any longer she would change completely and he couldn't bear it if she did; she was his, no matter how far she went away from him, no matter if she found happiness elsewhere, no matter if she forgot about him like he had been nothing but a bad memory... that light in her eyes and in her smiles... that was his, forever. And he would keep it safe even if it hurt her to do it in the short term. Even if it broke his heart... and even if it killed the light inside of him.