Mature content.
I am super sorry for the late update. I hope the length makes up for it.
this one's dedicated to munchy! :) because you are my greatest inspiration, and because i love you to death. ❤️
Chapter Seven
The
morning sunlight poured through the soft, worn, curtains of the motel, and she
crossed to the windows, throwing them wide open to feel the fresh breeze on her
face.
"Mama,
what are we doing today?"
He was
tugging at her pyjamas, and Lavanya knelt down, cupping his face between her
hands and kissing his forehead.
"I'm
sorry you're so bored, beta. But it's
just a few more days, and then -"
"So we're
doing nothing?"
His tone
was even, yet she could see impatience brewing in his serious brown eyes as he
struggled to be strong and brave and grown up. Her own eyes stung with tears as
she felt a rush of pride for her son, and she reached down to link her fingers
with his, bringing the back of his palm to her lips.
"No, darling. We are doing something. We're waiting."
"Waiting
for what?" he asked curiously.
Waiting for him to pick up my
calls.
She bit
her lip, and smiled.
"You'll
see."
*
It was her wedding day, and a
horde of giggling girls burst into her room with news of her groom.
They gasped.
"You look so pretty!" one of them
squealed.
She blushed and broke into a shy
smile. She knew she did. The intricate gold patterns on her red lehenga flashed
merrily across her skin, and the jewellery was heavy - she had never worn such
ornaments before. But she was getting impatient. She gestured wildly with her
eyes to her nearest friend, who snorted with knowing laughter.
"Look at her! She's dying to know
about him!"
They all pressed closer to
whisper in her ear.
"He's the most handsome man we've
ever seen! You're so lucky!"
"You must, MUST tell us about
your suhaag-rat! Or we'll never speak to you again! Isn't that right, girls?"
They all nodded solemnly in
agreement before bursting into renewed fits of giggles. She laughed with them,
and settled more comfortably into her chair. The air was fresh with sweet
smelling garlands and spices, and she could hear the hustle-bustle of men and
women as their busy shouts wafted lazily in through the window, as they made
the last minute adjustments to the preparations of her perfect wedding.
She could not help but sigh in
contentment. She was happy. She was so, so happy. And nobody could take that
away from her, nobody.
*
He
pressed the green button, and raised the phone to his ear.
There was
an audible gasp on the other line, and then silence.
He didn't
know how long he stood there, the phone growing warm against his skin. He could
hear the birds chirping outside, the loud ticking of the clock - and he could
hear her breathing.
He opened
his mouth, relying on his tongue to make words he couldn't think of - when she
spoke.
"Don't
hang up on me."
His heart
boomed loudly in his chest. His mouth seemed to be filled with dry, dry sand.
"I wasn't
going to," he rasped.
He could hear her. Her breathing was laboured.
He heard her exhale slowly.
"ASR -"
"Why did
you call?"
There. He
had done it. It was out there now. It was now entirely up to her to -
"Because
I need to see you."
And with
a rushing sense of realization that quite alarmed him, he wished he had never
pressed the damned green button.
*
"No." he
said.
The floor
spun in front of her face, and she grasped the back of the chair to steady
herself as she swayed in the spot.
"Wha -
what?"
"I said
no."
His voice
was firm. She could hear him breathing evenly, She, on the other hand, was
finding it exceedingly difficult to breathe. She cursed herself silently for
losing her cool.
"Why
not?" she managed to choke out, desperately hoping she had not given away her
feelings in her tone.
"Because I never want to see you again."
He was
lying, he was lying. She could tell it. He must have been lying. How could he
be telling the truth? How could he not want to see her? How could he not want
to see her after four years? How could he not want to find out what she wanted?
She knew she mattered to him - she - she must
matter to him, she was nothing without him -
Her
thoughts spiralled out of control and a terrible thought struck her - had he
moved on? Did he have somebody else?
Don't be a hypocrite, she thought to herself, feeling
completely bitter. Even you had moved on,
didn't you? You -
She
jumped as he spoke again.
"Will
that be all?"
Anger
flared up as she registered his cool, indifferent tone. She knew him too well
for this. It was his mask. He was obviously very disturbed.
She opened her mouth to snap at him when her
son's small hand curled around hers; she looked down to see him gazing up at
her, his eyes large and liquid. Her anger melted away.
"No," she
said bravely. "That won't be all. I will be seeing you, whether you like it or
not -"
"Enough,
Lavanya," he cut in, his voice laced with contempt and hatred.
The words
died in her throat at his venomous tone. Tears stung her eyes as she felt pain
pierce through her heart.
"But -"
There was
a scuffling noise, and the line went dead.
*
"Wait, I think I forgot
something! Let me go bring it -"
"Arreh, why will you trouble
yourself? You're the bride!"
"Uffo Maasi, don't you
understand? She spotted him somewhere from the window, and wants to go look
again! Hai na?"
The aunties squealed with mirth
as she reddened considerably, and she lifted her many skirts and raced back up
the stairs, her heart racing.
She threw the window open and
leaned out as much as balance would allow, all the while craning her neck left
and right to see where he had gone. There was a noise through the window
adjacent to hers, and she turned her head to see better.
Her heart flew up to her mouth.
He was there, his back to the
window.
She ran out of her room and into
the corridors, blushing furiously at the boldness of her own actions before
skidding to a stop at the door.
Her one hand reached for the knob
while the other wiped sweat off her brow.
She smiled, giddy with delight
and anticipation, and for the wild streak she had just discovered within
herself.
She made to push the door open
when she heard them.
Voices.
They were lowered, and they were
murmuring. And then - a sob.
Worried, and with a strange wish
to be discreet, she quietly opened the door, her hand sweaty but steady on the
wood as she held it close to the frame. She took a deep breath and peeked in
through the tiny gap.
*
The pearl-gray
curtains swished and danced as the wind blew gently into his room. Arnav still
stood there, the phone clutched tightly in his hand, his eyes distant. The
rumble of the sky brought him back to earth, and he walked to his bed and sat
down, eyeing his room warily as he placed his phone gingerly on the bed,
feeling completely drained.
She wanted to talk.
She wanted to see -
No, he thought, steeling himself.
He screwed his eyes shut as he flopped backwards on the bed, his head in his
hands. A sudden smell of damp earth filled his nostrils, and then he could hear
the soft pattering on leaves as the rain fell gently over his garden.
The sky
growled again and the wind grew colder, and he sat up, knowing he should close
the sliding doors against the coming storm, but not finding the strength or
will to move his suddenly heavy legs.
Yet the
rich fragrance of wet soil invigorated him, and so he filled his lungs with the
air, inhaling it desperately, finding within it peace that soothed his suddenly
stinging eyes, that filled the aching void in his chest.
He pushed
himself off the bed and crossed slowly to the large French windows, his hand
coming to rest on the wooden frame. Tiny flecks of rain kissed his face and ran
under his clothes, and he welcomed the sudden chill. The rain grew wilder as he
turned his face to the sky, blinking rapidly against the droplets of water that
were flung with increasing force across his eyes. The clouds were black and
churning menacingly, the sun well hidden behind their large masses save for the
briefest flashes of bright orange as it tried in vain to conquer its throne.
It seemed
like five in the afternoon, and he spun wildly around, his eyes seeking his
clock among the wreckage in his room. The clock hung quite unharmed on the
wall, and he felt relieved when he saw that it was barely twelve. He moved
towards the bed again when his eyes were drawn to the door that it had been
pushed up against, and for the first time, he thought of his family, who he
knew would surely have gone mad with worry by now.
Sighing,
he pushed the bed aside, grabbed his towel and went for a shower, and a shave,
for good measure.
*
There stood a tall lady dressed
in the deepest green, her dress long, flowing down to gather at her feet in
velvet folds. Her hair was the colour of ebony, and cascaded down her back, the
glossy curls swinging just above a perfectly round bottom.
She squinted harder to see the
woman's face, and leaned back disappointedly when the woman turned her back to
the door and strode to the windows. She saw her fiance follow her movements
with his eyes, and could barely supress her own dread as she recognized the
grief and longing in them.
She closed the door, and slowly
made her way back downstairs, her heart heavy and miserable.
*
They
watched him come down the stairs, his steps cautious and quiet as he looked
around for them. He slowed down as he spotted them all sitting in the living
room, eyeing him expectantly. He opened his mouth, and finding nothing to say,
felt great happiness when Hari Prakash waddled into the room, carrying a tray
laden with tea things.
"Hari
Prakash," he barked. "Mera room saaf kar
do."
The
servant trembled. "Ji, Arnav Bhaiya."
Arnav
turned back to his family, waiting for one of them to speak, knowing full well
he would never answer their questions. There was a deep echo of thunder, and
they all started, momentarily distracted, but not long enough so that he could
slip away.
"Chotte,"
said Nani. "Sit. Down."
He sat.
And it
was only then he realized his sister was not there. And at times like this,
that was extremely surprising - no, disturbing, unusual -
He sprang
to his feet.
"Where's
Di?" he asked, to no one in particular.
"Look at
that, he still cares."
"Uffu
Sasuma," cut in Mami, her heart melting for her nephew. "Cut him some slackwa,
didn't you hear what Anjali bitwa said about her being back -?"
"Yes,
exactly, Manorama's right," said Mamaji, nodding in agreement. "The poor boy
must be going through some shit right now -"
"Wait -
what - how did you - what are you talking about?"
"You tell
us, Bhai," said Akaash, looking pained and pale. "Please don't hide anything.
Please answer us. Truthfully. What happened? What - what happened, Bhai?"
ASR?
Because I need to see you.
He closed
his fists, his nails cutting into his palms. He could not lose control, not
now.
"You
haven't answered me yet. Where is
she, where is Di?"
"In her
room, but -"
"Later,
Akaash."
He
hurried upstairs, taking three steps at a time, and burst into his sister's
room.
*
"I don't
want to talk to you."
"Di,
please -"
"I said
no, Chotte."
"But -"
"I stood
there, at your door, for five hours. Five.
I cried for you, I begged you to
open the door. You didn't. You didn't hear me. I was dying a thousand deaths
for you, and you didn't give a shit."
"Di, it
wasn't like that, I didn't - I couldn't hear you, I -"
"You
couldn't hear me? Are you freaking serious Chotte? Have you gone deaf?"
"Di -"
"Don't Di me. You were too busy wallowing in
self-pity to notice that others care for you, love you, and are still there for
you. We're not only there for you to use,
Chotte. We're your family. We share things, and we wanted to share your pain - khair, chodo. There's no point in saying
all this, you have heard it many times, I myself have lectured you with these
same words a few thousand times for the last fifteen years -"
"Di,
please, don't be like this. You know I can't bear it when you're mad at me, you
know I love you more than anything -"
"Love,
ha, don't make me laugh! Just go, Chotte. Leave me be."
"I'm
sorry, Di."
"One of
these days, Chotte. One of these days, you'll hide something from someone so
precious, that it will rip you apart - and then, maybe you will understand -
maybe then you will let me in."
She watched him as he took his hand back from where
he had been caressing her hair, and stood up.
"I'm
going out," he said curtly, and then he was gone.
*
The wedding was over, and so were
all the post nuptial ceremonies. Her nose was still red and running from all
the tears she had shed in the arms of her mother, and she wiped across it with
the back of her hand, scratching her soft skin with the many rings that adorned
her fingers. Her legs cramped painfully as she continued to sit quietly on the
bed, and she willed herself to take deep breaths, desperately trying to keep
the panic at bay.
She knew what was expected of
her, her mother and aunts and friends had left no stone unturned to educate her
about a man's body, and how she might please him. She wrung her hands before
flinging them to her sides to clutch at the sheets, and her fists became full
of the rose petals that had been artfully scattered in ample amounts over the
entire room. The sweet smelling candles continued to burn, and she waited, her
hands pressed to her face, breathing in the scent of roses.
He came in softly, locking the
door behind him. She startled awake, embarrassed to have been caught dozing off
against the headboard. Her hands flew down to adjust her lehenga where it had
come undone from its fanned out position, and she pulled her ghungat over her
face.
"Take that off."
His voice was harsh and sharp,
yet she did not flinch. They had prepared her for this, told her that some men
liked it rough.
"Take what off?" she asked,
furious at herself when her own voice trembled.
"Everything."
*
The rain
drummed down on the hood of his car as he parked in a secluded spot near his
house. He had barely closed his eyes and reclined back when he saw a bright
flash of colour through the corner of his eye. Vaguely interested, he
straightened up.
His jaw
dropped.
It was
her. The figure in red from last night. She
was standing outside his house.
Only she
was not dressed in red anymore, but in a suit that had yellow, orange and blue
splashed across it. It would have looked garish on anyone else, he was sure of
it - but she stood out, glowing brightly despite the heavy rain and dark
clouds, a speck of dancing colours in the muddy gray.
She had one arm holding her red bag over her head,
and he could see her brandishing her other arm at the gates, yelling for the
guards to open the door -yelling for the guards who had been called into the
house for a steamy lunch.
He opened
the car door and stepped out into the rain.
*
"What are
you doing here?"
Khushi
whipped around, her drenched plait smacking into her back.
He was
standing a few feet away from her, the rain beating down on his gorgeous body.
Gorgeous body? Wvah, Khushi. Wvah.
"I needed
to see you," she said, deciding to opt for straightforwardness.
"Oh?" he
said, raising his eyebrows. He stepped closer. Khushi backed away hastily, her
back ramming against the cold bars of the wrought-iron gate.
"What
about?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.
She
glared at him.
"Are you
going to marry my sister, or not?"
He
blinked in surprise.
"What?"
"What what? You got engaged to her last night
- well, not officially - but still - you said yes to the rishta. And then when we call you to ask whether we should arrive
by four or four thirty, your grandmother rejects us!"
"She -
wait - what? When?"
"What
kind of a clueless man are you? How do you not know these things? Do you all
not live in the same house?"
Her tone
irritated him. He grasped her arms and pushed her hard against the gate.
"Ow! What
was that for?"
"Will you
shut up?" he growled.
"Or
what?" she said, her gaze defiant and strong.
"Or I'll make you."
*
She complied, slightly wary, the
pit of her stomach whirling nauseously as she watched him nearing the bed. He
pushed aside the curtain of flowers and climbed on the bed beside her, helping
her untangle her large jhumka from her hair. She shuddered at his touch,
goosebumps sprouting up her arms.
"You are very beautiful," he
said, his tone as even as though he was proclaiming the weather beautiful.
Her eyes met his, while her mind
flashed back to the lady in green, to his tormented face.
*
"Who was
that on the phone last night?"
He froze.
"What did
you just say?"
"You know
very well what I just said, Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada," she spat. "Who was that on the phone last night? Who
disturbed you so?"
His grip
on her arms tightened, his eyes spitting fire. She knew instantly she had gone
too far.
"That's none of your f**king
business."
Her eyes
widened. How dare he talk to her this
way!
"You disgust
me," she said, hurling her words at him. "Let go of me this instant."
"No."
"What the
- how dare you? Aapki himmat kaisi huyi humse aisi - let go, let go, I said."
He
squeezed her arms, and she hissed in pain. Tears gathered in her eyes as she
let herself feel the hard pounding of the rain, trying to ignore the man who
had trapped her with his body.
Trapped
her? She would be damned if she let him get away with this.
Her eyes
blazed with anger as she pushed against him.
"Was it a
wh**e?" she sneered. "Was she a lover? Is that why you got angry? Is that - argh!"
The
branch fell on her head, the leaves poking her in the ear. She looked quite a
sight, her clothes stuck to her body, dripping wet, her hair plastered to her
skull with twigs tangled in its tresses.
His
mounting fury went away as quickly as it came as he gaped at her, and burst
into laughter.
"It's not
funny!" she grit out, her frozen hands trying to sort out the mess.
"Here,
let me."
He held
her wrists and brought them down to her sides before drawing her head towards
him.
She felt
his hands on her hair and closed her eyes, completely overwhelmed by the
feelings that swept over her each time his fingers brushed over her skin, her
neck, her ears, her collarbones -
"There,"
he said, stepping back to admire his work. "All done."
She
looked at him, flushed and breathless, and he felt himself stir down below. She
really was a sexy sight, her small but shapely breasts straining to be held and
fondled with, her narrow waist calling to be grabbed, her hips ready to rock a
rhythm only he could give them -
But her
face. Her beautiful face. Those lips. That feisty mouth. Those defiant eyes.
The delectable neck.
Her mouth
dried as she watched the bulge in his groin-area grow larger, and her own core
screamed with need as he shoved her against the gate and ground his erection
against it.
*
He put up a hand to her cheek,
and she turned away her face, blushing and quite out of breath, quite thrown
away by the rapidness with which everything was happening. This was not how she
had imagined this - she had thought of sweet words, romantic talks, hushed
whispers -
Two calloused fingers held her
chin and tilted her face towards him, and her eyes fluttered shut as he
continued to undress her, his hands lifting her heavy necklaces off her chest,
skimming across her waist as her hip-belt came free. He fiddled with her hair
for a moment before it came loose from its bun, showering them both with the
smell of jasmine.
His hands contracted against her skin,
and left her.
She opened her eyes to see him at
the edge of the bed, his fists clenched against his eyes as he kneaded through
his face.
"Is something wrong?" she asked
nervously, fidgeting with her dupatta.
Her breath stuck in her throat as
he looked up sharply, his eyes red and burning. His voice was strained as he
spoke.
"Never use that perfume again.
Nothing with jasmines. Understand?"
She stared at him, baffled, and
nodded.
His eyes bore into hers as he
moved closer, and took her hand in a strong grip.
"Come. You are going to take a
bath."
*
"I - I
need to get home," she whispered.
His eyes
darkened, and he pressed even closer so that her breasts pushed against his
chest, and her breath strangled in her throat.
"What's
your name?"
Unbelievable, she thought.
"You
don't know my name?" she asked incredulously. "What did -"
"Stop
prattling and tell me."
There was
no mistaking the urgency of his voice. She gulped as he pushed himself further into
her, their bodies straining for each other through their wet clothes.
"Chodiye, what are you doing?"
"Your name."
"No, I
won't -"
He
lowered his mouth and bit her on the neck. She gasped, her hands flying up to
push him on the chest.
"How dare
you," she spluttered. "How dare you -
you -"
"I can do
worse," he warned. "Tell me your name."
"Khushi,"
she hissed. "My name is Khushi. Khushi
Kumari Gupta."
*
She had panicked when he had
ordered her to bathe, half delirious with worry that he was going to suggest
they do it together. Things were not going according to plan, she realized with
a growing sense of panic. This was not what her Amma had told her would happen.
Things had gone wrong. But she would be damned if she let them ruin everything.
How many times had they drilled into her that the wedding night was crucial,
that its success led the way to a happily married life?
She shook out her hair, rubbing vigorously.
She was going to fix this. Whatever it was, whatever that had gone wrong. She
was going to give him a proper wedding night. She sniffed herself for the
umpteenth time before opening the door.
He was lying on the bed, his
eyes open, reflecting the ceiling. He turned towards her as she made to get
into bed, one knee resting on the soft mattress.
"You changed," he stated,
observing her pale yellow sari.
She flushed.
"Yes, I -I took a bath, so I - I
changed..."
He smirked.
"- but," she continued, her heart pounding, "I could go change back
into my wedding clothes, if you want, I -"
"No," he interrupted. "Leave it. This
sari looks easier,"
"For what?"
"To take off."
He looked at her questioningly,
but she refused to meet his gaze, her hands winding tightly in her pallu. He
sighed.
"Come here. Don't make this any
harder for me than it already is."
The last few words bounced off
her as she wordlessly crawled forwards and lay down next to him, her chest
heaving. He brushed her damp hair aside and unpinned her pallu, drawing it off
her body. She raised her arms to cover herself, too aware of her breasts that
strained against her blouse, but he shook his head, and she let them fall
limply to her sides, resigning herself to watching - and feeling.
He unhooked her blouse with one
hand while the other went to tucked in pleats at her navel, and his movements
were fluid and confident, and she wondered if he had done this before. The lady
in green swam up before her eyes again, and she closed her eyes, banishing away
the disturbing thoughts.
He ran a hand over bra, gently
turning her over so that he could unhook it. She closed her eyes, waiting for
his lips on her skin, but they never came. He loosened her petticoat before
helping her out of them, and his fingers pushed down the elastic of her
panties, and she coloured as she watched him pause, looking at her private
area. She knew she was incredibly wet down there, and she could smell herself.
It was strong, and sickly sweet. She did not like it, yet it made her heady.
She gasped as she felt his hands move along her nub, and shivered as the
sensations raged upon her.
He withdrew his hands and she
watched him take off his clothes, her eyes widening as he revealed his penis to
her. It hung limply from his loins, and she looked up at him, thoroughly
aghast. She was not ignorant in these matters - she realized she had not been
able to arouse her husband. She bit her lips, fighting to keep the tears away.
She remembered what Amma had told her to do in these situations, and she rose,
ready to stroke him to attention. But he
had turned away from her.
She placed a hand on his shoulder,
running it along his back, letting her nails graze his skin. Still he did not
turn, and frustrated, she wound her arms around him, pressing her breasts
against his back, her hand fingering the hair that grew on his chest, pinching
his nipples, desperate to make this work, desperate to make him love her, want
her.
He moaned then, a strangled one,
and turned towards her. She could see desire in his darkened eyes, and her hand
reached tentatively to his grown manhood which now throbbed at her touch,
larger than ever before. She smiled at him, and he studied her face, his own
suddenly reflecting a strange sadness - and pity. But it was gone when she
blinked, and when she blinked again, he put his mouth to hers and fell on the
bed, his body on hers.
His hands parted her legs to feel
her again; the wetness had receded somewhat, and he lowered himself until he
was level with her hot, smelly core. She gasped loudly as he skimmed his lips
along her thighs, his tongue tracing in between her sensitive folds. She
shuddered as heat and discharge pooled out of her, and he raised himself to be
level with her eyes, asking her silently if she was ready. She nodded, and he drove
into her, breaking her barriers forever.
She screamed in pain, and he
cupped her face as he gently rode her.
"Relax," he said.
"How?" she choked.
He had said nothing, but looked
away, his eyes clouding with an unknown darkness. She was losing him, she
realized.
"Kiss me," she begged.
He kissed her, and yet it was
never a kiss. His closed mouth pressed on her open mouth, and she whimpered as
he kissed her face, her neck, and her breasts. His fingers roamed her belly and
twisted her nipples, and then moved down to caress her spot. She arched her
back, pleasure finally finding her, and looked happily at her husband.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, suddenly shy.
He continued thrusting for
another minute, before pulling out of her. She cried out in pain, her pleasure
not yet fulfilled. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she looked wildly around
for him and froze as she watched him cross to the bathroom, firmly closing the
door shut behind him.
*
Through her
window, through the raging storm, Anjali could see the two shapes huddled
together, her brother's masculine form towering over the other figure that
seemed to be a spot of bright orange in the gray rain. She frowned, watching as
he pressed himself on her, his arms snaking around the tiny waist. She was too
far to see clearly, yet she knew in her heart that this wasn't Payal or
Lavanya. And that meant trouble.
*
It had been a few weeks since
their wedding, since the failure of the wedding night. She had never initiated
sex with him again, completely scandalized at the way things had ended, at her
own wanton actions. From that point on, she changed her clothes in the privacy
of her bathroom, and slept on the far side of the bed with two pillows between
her and her husband. She would not even look at him, but at his feet when she
served him his juice, and was always careful as to not touch him. And every
day, for every second, her heart wept because she could not satisfy him.
"What are you doing?"
She shook out of her thoughts and
got off the bed, striding to their wardrobe to rummage for her sleeping wear.
"Nothing."
She could hear him come closer,
and her movements stilled, her stomach churning.
And then suddenly his body was
against hers, and she moaned as she felt his hot breath on her neck.
"I'm sorry about that night."
She felt tears welling in her
eyes.
"Don't be," she said, and his
arms wound around her, pressing against her navel, brushing against her
stiffening nipples. "It was my fault, after all."
He withdrew his arms, and stepped
back.
"Your fault?"
She turned to face him, her
cheeks blazing red.
"Yes," she stammered. "It - It
was. I was - I was unable to please you, so you couldn't -"
"It had nothing to do with you,"
he cut in sharply.
"Then - then why?"
He sighed, and took her hands in
his.
"It's just - it's just me. I have
demons."
She squeezed his hands and smiled
at him.
"Everybody has demons."
He gazed into her eyes as though
really seeing her for the first time, and kissed her with his mouth open.
Her tongue met his as they
undressed each other, and when they fell back on the bed, her heart soared to
feel him hard and ready against her belly. He thrust into her, his movements
wild and rough as he bit her skin, pulling her nipples with his teeth. He licked
the angry, red marks, his fingers stroking her wet nub, their nails grazing
each other as she bit into his shoulder. They cried out each other's names as
their orgasms shuddered through them, and she felt him pour into her body
before he collapsed on top of her.
*
"Let me
drive you home."
"No, I can
manage."
"You'll
get killed out here. A branch nearly did kill
you."
"Shut up."
It was as
though they had come to a truce. He had stepped back, and she had moved away
from the god damned gates. Her back still hurt from all the pressing and
ramming, and yet she felt strangely woozy, her feelings not unlike the time
when her crush in the fifth grade lent her a pencil.
Khushi. Stop being stupid. Now.
She shook
her head, trying to clear it. They were standing underneath the trees, and were
so spared from the rain that beat mercilessly upon the ground.
She turned
to him.
"You
haven't answered me yet."
"You ask
too many questions. I forget."
She punched
him.
"Are you
going to marry her? Or not?"
"Do you
want me to?"
"What's
that supposed to mean?"
"It means
what it means. I don't speak in riddles."
"f**k
you."
*
She smiled as she remembered
their passion filled nights, her hand gently rubbing her swelling belly, oblivious
to the vendor's growing impatience with his daydreaming customer.
"Oi Madam! Will you buy the begun
or not?"
"Huh - what? Oh...yes, here..."
With the eggplant packed into a
brown bag and tucked safely in her arm, she crossed to the side of the market
that was near the road. She had barely begun to examine the carrots when she
spotted her husband on the other side of the road. Quite ecstatic, she began
waving at him, shouting his name to catch his attention through the whizzing of
the cars that sped past.
He cannot hear me, she thought.
Leaving her carrots, she began walking out of the market when she halted in her
tracks.
He was gazing in the opposite
direction, wearing an expression which she had seen only once on him, on that
day of the wedding, when he had spoken to that lady in green. Her heart
sinking, she followed his gaze to find the tall woman walking up the road, her
black hair rippling in the morning sun, her fair skin dewy and spotless even
from afar.
She stumbled as she hurried to
step behind a golgappa cart, her palms clammy with dread. She watched with a
broken heart as the woman stepped into her husband's arms, as her husband
buried his face in her neck and hair and wrapped his arms around her.
She stared at them, seeing,
unseeing, and it seemed like days later when the golgappa man asked her if she
needed anything. She shook her head and whispered no, her voice hoarse. Her
eyes flew back to the place where they had been embracing, and widened in
horror. They were gone.
*
Khushi
sat down on the bed, feeling completely defeated. She had never met a man like
him, she concluded. He had dropped her home, despite her protests. And she was
glad. She was nowhere as brave as the front she had put up, and would have sat
under those trees and waited until the storm was over before trying to make her
way back home.
Arnav Singh Raizada.
It was
almost erotic, she thought, as she swung her legs up on the bed. He was erotic. She was attracted to him,
no doubt. But he was her sister's fiance, provided that the marriage was still
taking place. He had hardly behaved like a betrothed man. And then - there was
Rohit...
Payal was
going to kill her, she realized, a smile twitching at her lips as she lay down
on the bed. She had been able to fix nothing,
and had instead felt her sister's fiance's groin harden - for her.
*
"Bhaiya, suniye, bhaiya! Have you
seen a man pass by with a woman? About five minutes ago?"
"Yes, lots of them. Which do you
mean?"
"He - he's wearing a blue kurta,
and she was tall, and - and beautiful. Wearing a red sari."
"I don't - no, I don't think I -"
"Bhaiya, please, please! Try to
remember! I've asked everyone, you're my last chance!"
"I - oh well. I think I saw them
- but I'm not sure -"
"It doesn't matter, it doesn't!
Just tell me where you think you saw them!"
"They went that way, towards
those houses. Did the woman have long black hair?"
"Yes, yes - thank you, thank you
-"
"No problem - arreh - be careul,
behenji!"
She staggered against the cart,
fighting not to stumble again, wanting to be strong, knowing that she had to be
strong. She pushed her way through the throngs of crowds and burst into the
little clearing of houses, her eyes coming to rest on the motel in the middle.
She walked to its doors, her mind
screaming in protest, questioning her actions, her apparent distrust in her
husband.
"But I have to know," she
whispered. "I must."
The reception was a small area
beneath the stairs, and she crossed to it, looking haggard, a lost woman, a
haunted woman.
The man behind the counter looked
up. he was small and portly, his glasses almost sliding down his oily nose.
"Yes?"
"I need to -"she faltered.
What was she doing? Her head
spun. She turned on her heels, and had almost walked out the door when she
heard it.
Loud, shouting voices. One
familiar, and one not.
They are coming directly from
above, she realized numbly. And then, as though suddenly revived with an
electric shock, she sprinted to the stairs. The man at the counter yelled after
her, but she paid him no heed. It was now or never. She had to know.
She reached the first landing,
panting more out of the thought of what lay ahead than the exercise. The
landing was basically a long, narrow veranda, and each room had a window beside
its door. She began walking, her ears alert, her heart hammering.
The voices were coming from the
fifth room, and she pressed her ear to the keyhole, hoping against hope that
she had been wrong in her suspicions.
Her husband's voice boomed out.
"You don't understand!" he
roared. "I have to do this!"
"I have not said anything! Do as
you please! f**k her all you want! I don't care! Koi fadk nahi padta!"
"Damn you, damn you to hell!
She's my wife, I have to -"
"Do your duty? What will she say
when she finds out that all those nights of senseless f**king was duty???"
"She won't find out!"
"Why? Why not? Why won't you tell
her? Why don't you just tell her about me? About us?"
"Because -"
"Because you have fallen in love
with her! I know! I have known you all these years, and you have never lied to
me. So don't start now!"
"Zoya -"
"No, please, stop. I should have
never come here, I should have never agreed to this -"
"Zoya, I love you. Only you."
There was silence. And then -
"That is a lie."
"No - it's not -"
"I meant the 'only you' part."
"What? But -"
"Love is a beautiful, and a
terrible thing. What you have with your wife is beautiful. What we have is
terrible, it has always been. Who am I, but a common wh**e? I -"
"Zoya!"
"No, let me speak. You love both
of us. Believe me, that is possible. But in the end, your heart will choose
only one. And you need to make sure you choose the right one."
"I choose you, Zoya, I choose
you!"
The woman laughed, the low and
throaty chuckle filling the air, burning it.
"I am sorry I worked myself to
such a temper. It's just that - I choose you too, you know I do. I love you, my
darling. I love you, your eyes, your mind, your hands, your cock - I love every
part of you. I love the air you breathe, and the dust on your shoes, and the
shadow that you cast -"
It was his turn to laugh, and he did.
She removed her ear from the keyhole and peeped through the window.
He had caught the woman, Zoya, in
his arms, and was looking at her as he had never looked at her. It was a look
of love so intense, so smouldering, that she lost herself as jealousy crashed
through her, pushing away all the hurt and betrayal. For a moment, she knew she
could have killed the woman with her bare hands, and him too.
She watched the whole thing. How
they undressed each other, how she wound her harms around his head and pressed
it against her breasts, her nipples, her c**t. She watched how he licked every
part of her, biting, kissing, biting, sucking, grunting. She watched how they
came together, their orgasms barely subsiding before they started again. She
watched how the woman took her husband's penis in her mouth and made it grow
and shudder before he exploded in her mouth. She watched, and watched some
more, her own arousal evident between her legs, her eyes devoid of tears and
life.
*
Arnav
opened the door to his room, sniffling. His drenched clothes were making him
shiver, and he stripped them off and tossed them to the floor - which was now clean. He looked around
his room. Everything had been put back in place, and the sheets had been
replaced.
He felt
affection stirring in his heart for Hari Prakash and made a mental note to
increase his wages when there was a sharp, piercing pain in his toe, and he
hissed, wobbling to the bed.
There was
a small shard of glass stuck to his big toe, a shard so tiny and transparent
that his rage at Hari Prakash ebbed away. Anyone could have missed it, he
thought as he pulled it out, wincing. A drop of blood oozed out and he pressed
on it with his thumb, his mind wandering, wandering...
Khushi.
*
It was late at night when she
returned home, and trudged to her room. He was waiting for her, reading a
newspaper as he lounged on the bed against the headboard. She did not look at
him, and instead went straight into the bathroom to freshen up.
When she came out, he had put the
paper aside and seemed to be waiting for her. She sat at the dressing table and
began to braid her hair.
"Are - are you okay?"
"I am fine." Her tone was cold.
She was surprised. It had come naturally, even though she had never spoken that
way before.
"You - did you make dinner?"
"No."
"Oh. So what did Ma, Jiji - what
did they - did they eat?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? What's gotten
into you today? Didn't you go out to buy sabzi?"
Her lips tightened.
"I did."
"And then?"
She looked at him in the mirror.
"I lost the eggplant."
"Where?"
"I think - it was at the motel
where you were f**king your wh**e, Zoya."
The words had slipped out of her mouth
before she could process them, and alarm bells rang in her head as she watched
her husband flush with fury and stride towards her. He grabbed her arms and
squeezed them painfully until she cried out, and then pushed her away.
"Never say that name again," he
spat.
"Why?" she was close to tears,
her walls had all crumbled, her world had just been torn apart. "Why not?"
He looked at her in hatred, not a
trace of guilt or remorse in his eyes, and stormed out of room, leaving a
strong scent of jasmine in his wake. Her eyes were on the door as it banged
shut, and she slumped to the floor, her anguished tears finally bursting forth
as she wailed for her ruined marriage.
Garima
woke from her nightmare, her husband's arm over her naked breasts. They had
become sagged, she noticed, as she pushed his hand off her, and slid off the
bed. The nightmares had come back - but they could hardly be called nightmares.
She grimaced as the flashbacks played
across her mind again, and she concentrated on happy thoughts, on Payal's face,
on - on -
She
looked back at Shashi, snoring soundly on the bed. The blankets had fallen off
after their intercourse, and his bare body shone blue in the moonlight. She
crossed to the wardrobe to take out a fresh sari and petticoat, and began to
pleat, her thoughts a whirlwind of colour and movement, straying to Khushi.
*
NOTE*
Please like and comment, if you like it. if you don't like it, comment and tell me why. it would mean a lot to me, and especially this time around because this chapter was a pain in the ass. a lot of you might not have liked it, and that's more than okay because that means i get to learn how to do things better, righhht? and people who want PM's, please please PLEASE buddy me and that will automatically put you on my 'PM list' - which is essentially my buddy list.
to all writers: i'm sorry i have not been commenting lately. i have been excruciatingly busy, and sick as well. please dont delete me off any lists! hehe :P
i'll be done with this busy life on june 19th. and then i will comment on every little thing i see. :)
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Prologue: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/55179620
Chapter One and Two - Page 2: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/2911961?pn=2
Chapter Three - Page 4: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/2911961?pn=4
Note on Page 7: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/2911961?pn=7Chapter Four - Page 7: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/2911961?pn=7
Chapter Five - Page 10: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/2911961?pn=10
Chapter Six - Page 14: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/56171263
Chapter Seven - Page 18: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/56853125 My Arhi SS(completed): Feelings (based on Arnav discovering Khushi and Shyam promo) -
https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/2780981
Edited by cmileyfreaky - 12 years ago
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