Hey guys!!
So, I've been noticing the inherent lack of FFs on our forum and that simply will not do will it? Hence, I took it upon myself to come up with something worth your read. I didn't really plan on posting this so soon tbh, but then I heard that it is a matter of the forum's respect lol.
Fair warning #1: This is the first time I'm doing an FF (been a silent reader on other forums all this time). Fair warning #2: I don't trust myself with staying committed to this kinda thing and might turn out to be a very sporadic updater so please don't expect too much lol.
This is taking place waayyy after the birthday but has not reached that office party stage yet. Constructive criticism is welcome but haters don't be readers.... And last but not least, a shout out to @nikkiGarg for her plot idea which inspired me.
Chapter 1: Warning Bells
The sun was yet to rear its head when Meet Hooda woke up next to her husband that morning. Turning over to her side, she slowly moved the veil that separated their sleeping quarters aside and gazed at him, as she was prone to do every other day now. It was hard to resist from turning it into a habit, owing to his innocent- childlike face that was in stark contrast with his hulking figure. Her heart beat picked up slightly when he too turned over to her side, making her pull her hand back to let the veil settle back in place.
Slightly reprimanding herself for hesitating on his face too long, Meet rose to complete her morning routine. It wasn't like she was in love with him or anything. She knew that her emotions were completely wasted on someone like him seeing as he was already in love with her sister and that her days with the Ahlawats felt numbered.
This morning particularly had her feeling unusually uneasy, as if something was about to change; a premonition of....what exactly, she had no idea. The last time she had felt this way was when Dhoduram had gotten himself injured at the hands of goons. Warning bells rang out in her mind at the very thought. I should light a diya and keep a closer eye on him today, she decided.
Pinning the pallu of her pant-sari in place, she gave herself a once-over in the mirror before proceeding down the stairs towards the kitchen. Mani kaka was yet to prepare the tea as half the house was still asleep and so she took it upon herself to do it. It was one of the tasks she'd managed to succeed at, thanks to her bade-dil-waala uncle. Not that she wasn't trying to learn other things; her mother-in-law had stayed to true to her word and enrolled her in a cooking class as soon as Dhoduram had recovered. And so, she was learning - learning being the objective word, of course.
But she had enough confidence in herself to believe that she would be cooking like anyone else in the family in a few weeks' time as long as overtime at her delivery job didn't hinder her too much.
She contemplated on her schedule for the day as the tea boiled away on the stove. She would have to stop by Shahbad before her cooking class, she remembered, as her mother's call from the previous night came to her mind. Her mother had sounded slightly tensed but had refused outright to tell her anything over the phone. 'Tu bas apni khyaal rakh aur kal ghar aa jana, theek hai?', were her last words before hanging up.
Wondering what could possibly have made her mother call her home at such short notice, she poured the tea into ornate teacups set on three different bamboo trays. Signalling at an attendant to deliver the tea in two of the trays to the rest of the family, she carried the third up the stairs to her bedroom.
The sound of the shower running in the adjoining washroom told her that her husband had woken up. Good, she thought, now I won't have to annoy him into waking up. Setting the tray down on the coffee table, she quietly closed the doors and proceeded to dismantle the carefully-thought out sleeping arrangement before anyone could see it. What a disaster that would be, she thought, shuddering at how awkward it would be to explain to Chachi or Sunaina bhabhi about the complicated relationship she shared with her husband or worse, suffer the life-long taunts of Masoom didi and her annoying scatterbrained nanad, Chavvi, as she made the mahogany-framed bed she shared with her husband.
She had just settled down with her cup of tea when she remembered that she'd forgotten to pick out her husband's outfit for the day. It still surprised her that he had allowed such a thing to happen. But then again, there isn't much of a choice when one is injured and bed-ridden, she mused. After that it'd become too much of a habit for things to change once he recovered. Well, she wasn't gonna be the one complaining- she really didn't mind.
The door of the washroom opened just as she picked up a pair of his pants from the back of his wardrobe. About to rush to the washroom door with his clothes to avoid a petty fight with him over her punctuality, she stopped in her tracks when she saw him stepping out of the washroom in just his bath towel.
Feeling her ears grow hot at the sight of his glistening skin, she felt something clench inside her when he took a few steps towards her. Not wanting to explore whatever the hell that was, she held out his clothes as far away from her body as possible, knowing that the closer he was in proximity to her, the more were the chances of her own mind going haywire.
She couldn't really understand why she was so affected by him, especially since she had never felt anything like this before for anyone else. She hadn't really looked at any other man through eyes of... of attraction, her struggling mind helplessly supplied. She never saw them as anything other than potential friends - or enemies, for that matter. Gender had mattered the least to her when it came to friendship or antagonism.
It hadn't really occurred to her that she would be married someday when she used to fool around with Ram and Lakhan as Shahbad's ustad/gundi. She had her reasons, of course, such as the fact that she had undertaken the responsibility of being the sole breadwinner of the family after her father had passed away and that she didn't think of herself as the kind of girl boys dreamed of taking home as a wife.
But somehow, something had changed somewhere in between her wedding and the rekindling of her friendship with Dhoduram. Perhaps its the relationship that we share, she mused. While she was under no illusion about her farce of a marriage, something that was barely defined by society and paper rather than something substantial, being forced to share a space with him and doing things with and for him that she wouldn't with other men did take its toll. She was human after all and a true woman at heart.
The fact that he cared about her didn't really help matters either. It made things worse, if she was being honest, as that part of him made her feel like she was melting on the inside whenever it was revealed- like organising a surprise birthday party and defending her in front of his mother when she accused her irrationally.
And so, when instead of grabbing his clothes and going back inside the washroom to change, he stepped close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off his body, she automatically stepped back, only to find herself trapped against the wardrobe. His intense gaze had her heart galloping at a God-knows-what rate and the last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself in front of him with, what felt like an obnoxiously loud heart.
Not wanting to seem so affected (it would probably give his male ego an unnecessary boost if he figured out that he'd managed to cow the sherni of Shahbad), she regained enough of her bearings to slide to the right, away from his line of approach. This, however, didn't seem to deter him as he reached out and grabbed her forearm before gently pulling her back to his line of sight.
His actions confused her, as he wasn't really one to initiate voluntary contact with her consciously, save for that time when they challenged each other to a cricket match in Shahbad on her pag phera trip. His hand brushing against her collar bone had her remembering that she had worn one of the bolder (by her standards) pant-saris given to her by her mother-in-law. Its blouse had a boat-shaped neckline with cold-shoulder sleeves, all made of cool black satin. The pallu was mostly black and white lace while the pant was again black satin.
She'd frozen up the moment his hand touched her skin, as if her body had gone into shock. Her eyes refused to budge from his as he slowly slid his hand towards the bra strap peeking out from under the blouse. Heat rushed all the way up from her chest to her scalp, making her feel prickly all over. Without breaking eye-contact, he leaned even closer, making her crane her neck and fogging her senses with the scent of aftershave and soap and something that she could only describe as him. He took his time, making her feel like he was teasing her under the pretense of checking if her bra was fully out of sight, releasing a long exhale at her neck before trailing his fingers all the way down to her hand which was still clutching his clothes. Grasping hold of them, he slowly stepped away from her and turned towards the washroom, allowing her to release a breath she didn't realise she was holding in relief.
Her eyes followed his retreating back, swallowing at the sight of all the back muscles rolling gracefully with each movement he made. Turning back just as he reached the threshold of the washroom, he uttered words that she hadn't ever heard from him before. 'Acchi lag rahi ho, by the way', he said, with a smirk that said he knew all about the condition of her poor heart whenever he was close.
---fin--
Aaand, its a wrap. Until next time, y'all. Do lemme know what you think.
P.S.: Do let me know in your comments/ replies if you want a continuation of this chapter in Meet H's POV or an interpretation of this chapter in Meet A's POV in the next chapter.
Mannat Har Khushi Paane Ki
Arjun
Cricket
