Main Pyaasi Hoon Mujhe Bhar Le Apni Baahon Mein
Chapter 115
By the end of the second week the cracks were beginning to show. He was being a total bear and he knew it too--a moody bear that hadn't gotten lucky for a good fortnight or more.
The frequency of the cold showers had gone up.
How many tantalizing glimpses of bare bre*asts and flashes of lush nipples could a man withstand before cracking! In fact these days he often left the room softly swearing under his breath when Zoya was feeding Zaid.
He'd taken to running in the mornings and going savagely at his punching bag in the evenings.
Zoya wouldn't even tease him any more so miserable did Asad look. He exhaled so often that it was almost embarrassing in public. When she held his hand in sympathy he dragged her to him for a quick nuzzle and then pushed her away roughly.
That permanent scowl, his trademark from the good old Akdu days, was in danger of making a full-blown comeback. But she didn't have the heart to scold or glare at him. She felt the pangs of forced virginity too. This must be what makes husbands jealous of infants, she thought.
He loved Zaid, there was no doubt about it. But did the kid have to be so clingy?
"Mr. Khan, he's only 17 days old," Zoya reminded him one day, very patiently.
"I know," Asad covered his face in shame. "I'm such a jerk."
"Aww baby, don't feel so terrible. It's OK to feel neglected," she rushed to comfort him knowing that he felt guilty about his crankiness.
"I can ... you know ... help you take care of business," she said softly on the 27th day after he'd emerged cursing under his breath from a particularly long cold shower.
Asad groaned, hand pressed over his eyes. "No, I can hold on ... I think. You've been through so much and I've done nothing but sit on my hands basically! I feel terrible just wanting you so bad and for even thinking of se*x when your body has barely recovered." He held her by her shoulders, "and get this, I want us both to be able to enjoy our reunion se*x and not just do it because of my needs or urges. But very soon I may just have to take you up on that offer!"
She laughed. "Any time Jahanpanah! I miss you too, you know?" Zoya went up on her toes and kissed him.
"You do?" He asked in guilty wonder.
Asad was seriously terrified that childbirth would have put Zoya off the magic of se*x for a long time; and he wouldn't have blamed her. The power and endurance of the female body floored him. And why would it even want to please the male body in the aftermath of such a marathon trauma? He felt ashamed for even thinking of se*x and not realizing the heaviness his repressed desire placed on Zoya. And come to think of it, he was just surprised that women didn't undergo PTSD in the wake of birthing. Or may be that's what post-partum depression was all about.
"I do," Zoya sighed. "I miss you so bad!"
She had her own fears. When would her body return to shape? Would Asad be repelled by her? Why did he leave the room whenever she fed Zaid these days?
"Thank god! But babe, in the meantime you've got to let me rejoin work or I'll just spontaneously combust into a pile of horny ashes."
"No!" She looked at his face--it was taut with tension. "OK, fine," she pouted, not even momentarily amused by the image of horny ashes. A part of her quailed--was she being too clingy? Did he not want to be with her and the baby?
"But start small--half a day, hmm? Baby steps."
"Half a day of sanity and then a half-day of being a se*x-starved saint? I'll try." He leaned in to kiss her after fingering the infinity and Yin and Yang charms on the slender chain around her neck. "I love you," he breathed.
Zoya started to cry.
"Zoya? What happened? Are you OK?" Asad swept her into his arms and carried her to the rocking chair. She clung to him as he held her in his lap.
Dobby wandered by and hopped up to perch by his shoulder. It gave him the perfect view of all three of his favorite people. Yes, he'd come to love the little hairless bundle that mewled and sighed and made interesting sounds and smells. The first time he'd heard the baby cry, Dobby had run to hide under the bed. Subsequenty he went closer to sniff and do a thorough inquiry. He seemed to like what he saw.
"What is it? Tell me," Asad asked dropping kisses on her head and tucking her hair behind her ear.
"I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"That things will somehow be different between us now ..."
"I'm scared of that too."
"You are?" Zoya's eyes widened in panic and she sat up straight to look at him.
Oh my god!
Asad played with her fingers. "I'm scared that you won't enjoy se*x as much any more."
"What? Why wouldn't I?"
"It's arrogant of me to even think of it when you may not be emotionally or mentally prepared for it. What if you hate me for putting you through all this?"
"Asad, are you crazy? Both of us wanted this. And I could never hate you! I never hated you even when you were the emotionally-challenged Akdu Jahanpanah to me in the beginning."
"You mean we'll be OK?"
Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. "We will ... if you aren't revolted by my body."
"What? Why would I be revolted?" Asad asked in confusion.
"I feel flabby and saggy in places--they're stretch marks. It'll be a while before I get my pre-pregnancy body back. In the meanwhile all I've left is a mom bod."
And you've been avoiding me, pushing me away. Now you want to cut your leave short and go back to work.
"What's a mombod?"
"A mom body that's forced to wear mom jeans because nothing else fits," she grumbled.
"I love your body, mom bod or pre-mom bod," Asad nuzzled her neck. He shifted her so she could straddle him. His hands ran down her sides greedily and feathered under her shirt.
Zoya hissed; her blood heated. Asad's hands grew bolder. They snaked up to undo her bra and cup her. His thumb skittered across a nipple and she moaned.
"You're my goddess, my wonder woman, and the mother of my child. That whole package is se*xy as hell!"
"Really?"
"Really!" His hands slid down and dug into her butt to drag her against his hardness. "And that mom bod made your bre*asts even more glorious. Why do you think I have to leave the room these days when you feed Zaid? It's because if I don't, I'll rip him away from you and take you right then!"
"Asad!" she moaned in shocked desire.
"Umm hmm. It's pretty crazy, right? I sound like a total monster."
"No, you don't. I was the one freaking out that you no longer found me desirable."
"Babe, is that even possible? I'm dying to touch you, to taste you, take you. The things I want to do to you!" He ran an impatient hand through his already mussed hair. "I found you desirable that first day I saw you. Even when you bit my head off!"
Zoya batted her lashes down at him and undid the first button on his shirt, "Mr. Khan, you're lucky I never bit your head off," she drawled.
Asad threw his head back and laughed. "Thank god for that!" He looked across at the crib where Zaid was sleeping. "Or, how would Zaid have blessed us with his presence or kept us miserably apart?"
Zoya parted his collar and nibbled on his collarbone. He buried his face in her cleavage.
She took his hand in hers and sucked hard on a finger. His head fell back as Asad groaned. "Zoya ... don't baby. I'll die right here." But his other hand crept up her bare skin.
Zoya shuddered.
"Good. Then I'll be right here to hold you in my arms. You've taken such exquisite care of me all these days. Let me love you back, Asad." She slithered down on her knees.
"Zoya!"
"Shh ... "
Ha! She'd actually managed to close the snap on one of her looser mom jeans. Thank you Allah miyan! May be that cloth-corset thingie the Ammi army strapped her into daily had its benefits after all.
Mom wisdom ki jai ho!
Come to think of it, all that fattening food was going straight to the baby and not her as she'd dreaded.
She looked down at Zaid napping in her arms. He was plumping up nicely, reacting to his surroundings and responding to voices and hugs. She still couldn't get over how tiny he was or how perfect. He'd begun to track her and Asad with bright eyes and made the most wonderful cooing and gurgling sounds. Yes, he cried. But that was just his way of telling them: feed me, change me, I feel gassy, I'm sleepy.
She touched his hand and Zaid's fist clamped around her finger.
Zoya's heart swelled.
His dad did brag about his son's power grip and call Zaid his little tiger. It was a powerful grip indeed.
She'd take a mental picture of this moment for her mental scra*pbook. Click.
But she took real ones too to post for Jeeju and Najma--Zaid's biggest overseas fans.
Zoya hummed softly to him as she walked around the room. She'd read him Dr. Suess later. He'd look at them intently, without blinking when they read, "Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You?" Sometimes his lips would pucker up at each sound or his eyes would widen. But pretty soon he'd fall asleep after going through the list of all the mooing, meowing, bow-wowing, chirping and clip-clopping sounds.
Ayaan Chachu called him his little Squirt or Chhota Sher depending on his mood"and because Zaid had also squirted him the first time Chachu changed him. His Phuphis and Khala called him Golu-molu despite frowns from his dad; when he wet his pants they called him Gilu.
Ah, the names a kid could pick up!
And the grandparents?
Allah miyan!
Just waiting in line everyday to spoil and coddle him! Because like his parents Zaid had superpowers too. Don't believe it? Then why was he wearing this onesie today that read: I can melt my grandma's heart. What's your superpower?
And why wouldn't he have superpowers? Having a Teflon armor from eight grandparents' duas and tikas and having them tell you how perfect you were, could give a kid wings. No Red Bull needed, thank you very much.
Asad and Zoya wanted to take Zaid to the dargah"so many red strings to untie--but no one would let them.
"Don't take the baby out, nazar lag jayegi," was the loudest refrain.
And may be even this maternal wisdom was not wrong: infections, germs, bacteria, viruses, cooties, buri nazars ... who knew what was lurking out there to sneak up on our Zaid?
But he did need his first immunization shots after the first month.
And Zoya wanted one other place for him to visit: her mom's resting place. But there were fresh worries and debates. "No, it's not proper to take a baby there ..." "What if ..." "Ask Maulvi Saheb ..."
Many family conferences later with renewed negotiations and signatures on dotted lines, they finally had their permission from the mom council. "Avoid crowds," "don't let anyone hold the baby, or touch him," "stay away from sick people," "cover him up," and other motherly cautions followed them out to the car and echoed in their ears till they drove away. After Zaid had been protected with multiple Dadi-Nani kaala tikas of course.
Siddiqui Saheb and Raziya were to meet them there for more grandparental protection.
"Aw poor Jahanpanah," Zoya teased as Asad held an umbrella for shade over her and the baby. "Reduced to being a chhatriwala mulazim!"
"What if he gets sunburn?" Asad said. He tried to peek at Zaid whose face was covered by his Ammi's net dupatta. "You know the moms will kill us."
"Please, babies look delicate but they can be resilient too. And I already put some baby sunscreen on him, so no worries. But thanks! I sure appreciate the shade." She reached out to pinch his cheek. "You're the best Jahanpanah ever and together we can take on any Ammi army!"
Asad grinned. "Yeah, we'll just hold up Zaid in front of us like a shield and they'll melt like butter left out in the sun."
"Aa gaya mera bachcha," Raziya cooed when they reached them. She proceeded to tuck Zaid into her arms, kiss him and blow the air around him as well as put a kaala tika on him. Asad looked at Siddiqui Saheb and smiled. Raziya had just met them in the morning--and done these rituals already.
Zoya laughed as she saw the look pass between her husband and father. "At this rate, saare Bhopal mein duaon ki kami pad jayegi if Zaid keeps hogging all the duas! And there'll be a kajal shortage too."
"Never!" Raziya exclaimed. "Hamare Zaid ke liye kabhi duayen ya kajal kam na padein."
She looked down at the baby. "Hai na, chhota baby?"
Zaid gurgled happily--he'd been fed, burped and changed and was now content to look up into yet another pair of adoring eyes. "Come Zaid, we want to introduce you to someone very special. Your Nani has been waiting to bless you."
Raziya had brought a phool chadar and cloth inscribed with holy verses that they would drape over the memorial. They spread the red and green gold-edged cloth over the stone and had Zaid bump the fabric with his tiny fist. For a heart-stopping second his hand seemed to get entangled in the phool chadar.
Fragrant petal wisps clung to his tiny fingers.
He babbled in his Nanu's arms as everyone kneeled and bowed their heads to offer prayers. Siddiqui's eyes misted and his glasses fogged over as Zaid looked at him directly in the eye. He'd felt that stab of guilt every day since he held Zaid for the first time in the hospital.
He felt judged by those eyes.
I know, I wish I had held your Ammi too like this in my arms when she was this small. I might have even been blessed and lived a spiritual life--and been closer to Allah.
He felt anger at himself and hurt on Zoya's behalf.
But he'd also promised his daughter that he wouldn't wallow in regrets. "We have today, and so many tomorrows to make up yesterday's losses," she had reminded him again and again.
He removed his glasses. "Insha'allah!" he whispered as Siddiqui held up Zaid and brushed his old eyes against the itty-bitty forehead.
Before leaving, Zoya held Zaid's hand in hers and together they touched the warm stone. The baby cooed and the birds picked up the cue; they twittered and flew into the setting sun.
"Say bye, Nani," Zoya said.
"Mmm baa aaa," chirped an animated Zaid.
And his besotted mother was convinced that her son had actually said bye. And only her husband would believe and agree with her.
On the 43rd day the gods, no goddesses of female body systems and maintenance smiled down on her.
Zoya texted Asad.
He should be the first to know after all.
But all of a sudden she felt shy and just a little insecure. So she just sent him a selfie. He'd get the message. That look said it all, right?
But of course this was the day that Mr. Khan had taken his stupid pills. The gods of male body reflexes were on strike.
"What's that face," he texted back. He was distracted, preparing for a meeting with a new client and glaring at Ayaan who was making paper planes.
Zoya nearly died.
Really, Mr. Khan? I have to spell it out for you now? Does se*xual telepathy no longer work on you? Have you become immune to THE Zoya Farooqui and her puppy face?
But her heart skittered in alarm. Are we done being Zoya and Asad? That heart-stopping chemistry is now history? Are we just going to be Ammi and Abbu now?
"AM, what's wrong with you, Mr. Khan!" she texted back after only a minute's hesitation.
Because here's the other thing: Zoya was fairly immune to self-doubt and insecurity--ain't nobody's got no time for that!
And she'd married and bedded the one guy on the planet who could make her feel even a smidgeon of uncertainty about herself. A minute is all her nature allowed for self-doubt. Then it just naturally bounced back like a crazy ball.
Her phone rang. Aha, so Mr. Khan was smartening up. Good Jahanpanah, even though he was a Tubelight Ahmed Khan.
"Zoya?" he thundered. "What the hell was that?"
No, that second part wasn't meant for Zoya. He was actually yelling at Ayaan who was balancing on one of the chairs and had tipped it so far back that gravity had to step in and do its thing or no one would take it seriously any more.
Ayaan slammed to the floor, arms and legs in the air--as dignified as a turtle flipped on its back.
"Mr. KHAN!" Zoya growled and hung up on him. Here she was, horny as a monkey in heat and there her clueless husband was actually yelling at her.
You're not gettin' any, she screamed in her head. You can take a bajillion cold showers and stay celibate for all I care. You can become a goddamn saintly Peer Baba who dresses in green and blesses random strangers with peaco*ck feathers at dargahs because you'll be so fu*cking celibate and I still won't care.
Damn you, Asad.
The steam coming out of her ears was making her hair frizz on end.
This is what she had primped and preened herself for? She'd been sneaking in little beauty makeovers all week--a mani and pedi, facial and hair, threading and waxing--so that they could have the most perfect post-baby se*xy time.
And you pull this punk-ass stunt?
Damn you, Asad.
He was smack dab in the middle of the meeting when the bulb went on in Asad's head.
He did the math; he pulled up her picture on his phone. Yep, her message was pretty clear.
He groaned a monster groan.
Everyone stopped to stare at him.
"Sorry," he jerked out. "Stomach cramps," he added quickly, belatedly remembering to hold his side.
Stomach cramps? Where did that excuse even come from? Was he a little girl starting her period? God, his brain cells were fried thanks to forced se*x fasts.
And given his current slow reflexes, that se*x fast just got longer.
He sighed. The real cramps were a little more south of his stomach but no one had to know that. And thank god the lights had been dimmed for Ayaan's presentation or everyone would have seen his face turn red, and then a bilious green.
Because he'd just replayed the phone conversation with Zoya and his exact words.
And tone.
Oh.
My.
God.
His wife was going to kill him. Asad almost grabbed his head in his hands.
He glared at Ayaan so hard that Ayaan stuttered mid-sentence. He saw the Mukka Ahmed face and stumbled backwards. In his brother's eyes he saw his limbs being torn from end to end and Ayaan grabbed a glass of water to gulp down his panic.
Oh cr*ap.
And he didn't even know what he'd done wrong. But it must have been some mega sh*it for THAT look.
Ayaan dreaded the end of the meeting. After that signature Mukka Ahmed Khan glare he'd limped through his presentation with one eye on the closed door.
And he'd come up with a plan.
He'd run out the moment everyone pushed their chairs back and before the handshakes began.
And he had the perfect excuse too. He'd just yell, "family emergency!" and dash out. Once he returned an hour or two later, Bhai would have cooled down.
But Ayaan was left cooling his heels when the moment the first chair in the room was pushed back, his Bhaijaan leaped up, yelled "family emergency!" and dashed out the door.
Hunh?
Wait, what? Oh my god, something terrible must have happened and that's why Bhaijaan was giving him the death stare.
He ran after Asad. "Bhai! What emergency? What happened? Is everyone OK?" he called after his brother and jammed himself into the closing elevator.
Hands on his hips, lips pulled down in a grim line, Asad glared at him.
He took deep breaths to decelerate the impending explosion. He didn't want another catastrophe on his hands. One trainwreck was enough.
If Ayaan only knew the control it was taking his big brother to not rip his head off ...
"Umm ... woh ..." Asad's impatient hand brushed the back of his neck.
"... actually, main ... woh ..."
"Bhai! Sab theek hai na?"
"Ye ... es. Everything's OK," he managed to say through clenched teeth.
"Then why'd you run out like that? Did I do something wrong?"
Asad exhaled. Yes, but--
"No, you did great in there. I just have to go, OK? I just remembered something important I have to take care of."
"Great! But you're sure you're not mad at me?"
Asad sighed.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"And Zaid and Mona darling are fine?"
Zaid is.
Mona darling ... not so much.
And if I stand here chitchatting with you I'm dead meat. Dead horny meat.
Very dead.
Very virgin.
Meat.
"Just check on the client and do some hand-holding and damage control for me," Asad called out over his shoulder once the elevator door opened.
"Please!"
He sprinted off to his car and peeled out of the parking lot before Ayaan could blink.
But if he thought he could rush home, jump into his wife's bed and get lucky then he had another think coming.
Un uh.
Zoya was in the mood for some Jahanpanah mincemeat today. And she would slowcook it too on a medium flame to make perfectly juicy keema out of it before molding it into seekh kababs and roasting them over an open flame.
Of course she wasn't taking his calls. Or answering his texts. Asad slapped his forehead as he wove through traffic and got honked and cussed at. Did a year and half of marriage and marital fights teach him nothing?
"Arre Asad, good you came home early," Zeenat welcomed him at the door. "Go and freshen up, we have to go to Siddiqui Saheb's house."
He groaned on the inside but pasted a smile on his face. "Sure, Aapi. Woh Zoya ...?"
"Oh didn't she tell you? Ya Allah, yeh ladki bhi na! So scatter-brained this girl is. She's already there with Zaid. It was her idea to have the party in the first place. And you know how Siddqui Saheb and Raziya Bi can never say no to her ..."
Aapi went away mumbling about spoiling grown kids and giving into each ridiculous whim of theirs. Just wait till she told Anwar ...
Asad hung his head in despair.
OK, so act one of his punishment was becoming a little clearer to him. There was going to be an audience.
He knuckle-dragged his way to the bedroom, the closet, and then the bathroom; he was ready to go in 20 minutes but not his mother or mother-in-law.
"Itni jaldi kya hai?" Dilshad asked. "We'll go at 8."
Asad shoved his fists in his pockets and rocked on his heels. Three whole hours of slow roasting?
Fine.
He'd make some phone calls.
"Ammi, I have to pick up something ..."
"Why waste petrol? That's what Zoya would say, ha na! We can do it on the way. I love how Zoya makes us think about ways to conserve more energy," she told Zeenat.
Zeenat beamed with pride.
He hissed with frustration. Asad's body vibrated with the effort to hold himself back from pacing or roaring. Or banging his head against the nearest wall. The energy radiating from him could power the house right about now. And may be even the whole street.
Chilled water. Yeah, he should have some of that. Because he knew it in his gut. The torture would only get worse from here.
Asad knocked back two glassfuls.
He wasn't a drinking man. Or he'd have himself some of that stuff too. He'd be needing it.
The whole damn family was here decked out in their colorful best. Some of Omar and Feroze's relatives as well.
Great. Just bloody great.
Silks and sequins, gold and diamonds, music, food, chitchat, laughter and all the symptoms of a successful party were on full blinging display to tighten the screws.
His mouth twisted.
Hell, this was going to be hell.
And then he saw her.
So this was how she planned to kill him.
Asad was close to mimicking the hangdog expression of cartoon characters.
And Tom was this close to jumping Jerry's bones and carrying her away to a corner for a curfew-breaking three-alarm tryst ...
She flicked her hair off her shoulder and his head nearly fell off his.
Zoya wore a black saree and a matching backless blouse with sheer sleeves. It had been a gift from him. That expanse of creamy naked flesh called out to him to brand her ... He wanted to lazily trail his fingertips over that luscious back. Asad knew she loved that. She seemed to have dozens of erogenous zones on her back each more sensitive than the other.
May be he'd thumb the ridges of her spine. The goosebumps would flare up on her skin and her nipples would perk right up begging to be----
Those slender strings begged too ... they begged to be undone slowly to let him plant open-mouthed kisses on that bare back and let his hands slide up to cup her in the front. He'd flick her nipples with his thumb and squeez---
His dehydrated tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Zoya turned to adjust her palla and his breath caught at the quick flash of a thin black strap hugging her high on the waist. Was it his imagination or did she just deliberately snap her thong band at him?
His eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. Asad clutched the bouquet of red roses to his front even more tightly.
She had her back to him but she knew the exact second when he walked in. Her antenna vibrated and that traitorous nervous system jangled to notify an alert. She felt goosebumps pucker up across her back.
And then Humaira piped up too, "look Aapi, Jeeju's here!" so there was no pretending that she didn't know. So yes, she had just hiked up and snapped the strap for his eyes only. Take that Jahanpanah and drool your little eyes out.
The girls swarmed around Asad and oohed at the biggest bunch of flowers. "All the local florists love you, right Jeeju?" Humaira teased as she raised a mocking eyebrow at Ayaan.
Ayaan spread his hands in confusion, "what did I do?"
Humaira harrumphed.
Terribly self-conscious of everyone watching them, Asad walked over to give her the flowers.
Zoya's lashes swept her cheeks.
Despite that brazen hussy act she felt shy and insecure now. When she'd arranged this revenge blitz and dressed to kill she'd been ultra confident of her saucy dominance and stealth campaign. But she didn't take into account his revenge. He had no right to look that damn good.
She'd dressed very carefully tonight, slashed on several sweeps of mascara to elongate her lashes and glossed her lips into a perfectly arched and pouty bow. For a second she'd debated the thong versus going commando. The thong had seemed like the perfect counterattack.
But now her eyelids felt weighed down by sandbags.
So fine, he knew she could just eat him up alive in a suit. But to don a dark suit tonight? With a tie? Oh no, no, no, Mr. Khan, that was him just trying to slaughter her. Right here.
Halaal.
She saw Asad extend his arm out to offer her the flowers.
Zoya transferred a dozing Zaid to Raziya's eager arms and accepted the roses. Asad's fingers brushed against hers; he let a finger linger on her hand. Zoya couldn't resist closing her eyes and burying her face in the flowers to hide her response.
"Thank you," she whispered. Thankfully, the others melted away to admire the baby.
Asad bent his head closer to hers, "I'm sorry."
She kept her nose glued to the roses and lashes lowered to her cheeks. Zoya wanted to sass him back. "Why? What for?" she wanted to taunt. But no words came.
She swallowed.
"I'm going to put these in water," she edged away.
"Zoya!" he croaked.
She turned on her heel and he bit back another groan. When in god's name had she picked up these peep-toe fu*ck-me-hard heels? He'd never seen her in those. At least four inches if not five, they added an extra sway to her swinging ass as she walked away from him.
That ass--
He couldn't bite back that low growl. Asad's hands balled.
Genius.
Ayaan loped over and began talking about stuff that Asad had no interest in listening to or talking about. He had just one thing on his mind. And Ayaan was getting in the way.
Over his brother's shoulder Asad saw Zoya return from the kitchen and slow-walk towards Raziya. The saree pleats swished from one side to the other with each step. Did she know that he was watching her? Did she register the effect she had on him? Measure the magnitude on his pulse's Richter scale?
He watched her take Zaid into her arms and settle on the sofa. As she crossed her leg, her saree rode up just a bit to reveal an ankle ... circled by a silvery anklet.
The raised foot rocked hypnotically. The red and black stiletto perched precariously on the arch of those delicious toes and swung left to right.
Left ... and then right ...
Left ... right ...
Aannnh.
He watched her bend over Zaid and play with his hand. She kissed it and held it to her cheek.
Asad couldn't resist this radiant vision of mother and child.
Leaving Ayaan talking about ... about something, Asad hurried over to their charmed side. He sat down next to her and bent his head over Zaid too. His hand played with the baby's as well.
"I wasn't yelling at you. I was yelling at Ayaan."
Still she said nothing.
"Babe."
Oh god, she was this close to giving in. The flowers had started to melt her and then when he came up to sit next to them and take Zaid's hand in his, she was all but done. She loved to watch his hand dwarf Zaid's. And that "Babe," in the soft growly voice was enough to make her want to drag her husband away and launch herself in his arms.
"Zaid," Asad called out to his son who was wide awake now. The baby's eyes tracked his father's face. He smiled a toothless grin--or may be it was just gas.
"Tell Ammi I love her." Zaid raised his hand to flick his dad's cheek. Asad kissed it. "And tell her that Ayaan Chachu was being a goofball that's why I yelled."
His heart lifted to see Zoya's lips curve in a smile.
"Ask Abbu to tell us what Ayaan Chachu did?" Zoya told Zaid. Her curiosity won out over her anger.
Asad's breath expelled in relief at his wife's forgiveness and renewed anger at his brother.
"He was being an idiot and fell flat on his back in the middle of an important discussion," Asad deadpanned.
"Mr. Khan! Don't call Raabert an idiot! And not in front of our son." Zoya gasped as she tried to cover Zaid's ears.
"He's my brother and I can call him anything I want."
"He's my brother-in-law and no, you can't!"
"Oh rea---?"
"Jeeju! You have to come dance with us," Humaira interrupted him by grabbing his arm to pull him off the couch. Nuzzhat grabbed the other one and together the girls hauled him up and away.
Dance? Who the hell invented this form of torture? And just when he was making up with his wife?
But then he saw Nikhat who looked lost. "I'm just going to dance with Nikhat and then I'm going to go back to my family," he told Humaira and Nuzzhat sternly.
"Aww," the girls sighed in approval not minding his dismissal in the least as Asad accompanied Nikhat in some half-hearted dancing to "London Thumakda."
Everyone was happy to see Nikhat dance and laugh. Zoya watched too, wistful. But she had to giggle when she remembered the dialogue from the film about ending the "virginity ka vrat"! How appropriate. Her thighs clenched at the promise. She felt the satiny texture of the petticoat against her bare legs and shivered. Nice foreshadowing, DJ miyan!
They had stolen some moments of togetherness later when swaying to some forgotten music in each other's arms. She had burned in his arms. Raw lava could have been coursing through her.
He had spun her in his arms. Their eyes had danced, their bodies sizzled in anticipation of the coming consummation.
But little did Zoya know that the ball she had set in motion would knock over unintended pins. And just when they thought they were home free.
The evening was winding down. Soon they'd be home. Zaid would be out like a light and--
The plan was to put the baby to bed after a quick feed and change. Zaid was already sleeping through the night--he was such a good boy.
And then they'd have the whole night to themselves.
There was so much catching up to do.
But then someone had a genius idea.
"Please, please, please, let us have a sleepover, please! It'll be Zaid's first night here. Please let Aapi stay here." Humaira, Nuzzhat and Nikhat had become pretty good at puppy faces too. At least five grandparent faces lit up too.
Asad could have pounded his head to a pulp. Especially when he saw Zoya's deer caught in the headlight look.
"Umm ... we don't have all the baby supplies. I just packed what I needed for a few hours," Zoya stuttered feeble excuses. She looked at Asad in alarm. If she didn't get them out of this mess soon, Asad would kill her for sure or leave her here forever, undo his tie, and walk off into the sunset.
"Oh, we have everything here," Raziya boasted. "I always keep extras for whenever you come with Zaid. I've put everything in your room"it's all in there. And we've even put up a small crib in there for just such moments! Kitna maza aayega! Shireen and I will do everything--we'll massage and bathe him ..." she gushed and planned non-stop.
"And I want to change some diapers," Rashid added bravely.
"Me too," Siddiqui Saheb didn't want to look remiss.
Zoya grasped Raziya's arm as she tried to lead her to her old bedroom. "Aunty," she hissed.
"Hmm?"
"I can't. The things I need ... you know," she waggled her eyebrows trying to make her Aunty understand, "they aren't here!"
"What things?" Raziya blinked in confusion and then her brow cleared. "Oh, but you can borrow those things from Humaira, or the girls. They won't mind."
"No! You know, MY things. My ointments and medical supplies, for you know ..." Zoya gestured wildly and pretended to exaggerate her post-partum non-recovery.
Raziya frowned. "Abhi tak? I'll take you to the doctor tomorrow. This is not right. It's been more than six weeks already!"
Ya think? More than six weeks and she hadn't had any sugar ... hadn't felt her husband move inside her.
Zoya would have used Dobby as an excuse but she'd been very particular to bring him along with her when she planned her revenge on Mr. Khan. And now that revenge was biting her back in the butt.
Karma, Zoya.
She could have slapped herself for being a big fat idiot.
Finally it was Asad who had to be the bad guy. He put his foot down and just flat out said no. No, he would not leave Zoya and the baby behind. There would be no sleepovers till Zaid had completed his next round of immunizations. Period.
Everyone pouted.
Raziya sniffed, already making a list of complaints to tell at Zainab's side. She was only pacified when Asad said that they'd both come spend the night with Zaid at the Siddiqui house--but two weeks from now. That's when his second round of shots would be done.
"Ek raat se kaam nahin chalega, then. Be ready to spend at least a week here." Raziya demanded. "As it is he didn't let Zoya come for the pre-delivery or let us do the godh bharai here ..." She grumbled as she went to her room to retrieve the gifts she'd got for Zaid and Zoya. A bracelet of black and gold beads went onto Zaid's wrists. And he got a whole set of a silver tumbler, bowl, plate, spoon and rattle too.
"Aunty please, you just gave him so much for the seventh day rasms!" Zoya protested.
"You be quiet. This is between me and Zaid." That had been from Zainab's side. This was from her"his Chhoti Nani. She kissed his baby palms. "We'll have lots of fun when you come after two weeks. Nanu will read you stories. And I'll put ghee and badaam paste on your head."
"No!" groaned Zoya as she closed her eyes in despair. Not the ghee and badaam maalish!
The first time they'd come here and Raziya had returned Zaid to her, Zoya had nearly toppled backwards. "Ugh," she'd cried out. "What's that smell?"
"It's good for the baby," Raziya had told her smugly. "Dimaag tez hoga."
"But he stinks!" Zoya had complained, hand to her nose.
"Shh, aise nahin kehte!" Raziya had grabbed Zaid back and lovingly massaged his head with her palm. "Our Zaid will be the smartest and brightest boy in his class. Tum dekhna."
"And the stinkiest," Zoya had grumbled.
"Hush! He's not stinky at all. He smells like an angel."
"Sure, if all angels work at a halwai ki dukaan up there."
"Zoya! Ya Allah, yeh ladki!"
But that trademark stink followed Zaid home each time he came to visit his Nanu and Chhoti Nani. Everyone laughed at her sensitive nose. But she refused to hug the baby till that stench was washed out of his head. Zoya hugged him to her once he'd been slathered in baby oil and lotion. She'd inhale his baby scent deeply then.
Thanks to the rushed party Raziya hadn't managed to get her hands on Zaid for his ghee-badaam maalish today. Thank you Allah miyan!
Back in the car, both Asad and Zoya had breathed massive sighs of relief. Sure, it wasn't that they hadn't been shameless little bunnies at the Siddiqui house--the pool was a silent witness to that. It was just that home was home. And being horny little bunnies in one's own bedroom was much better than being so in a guest room.
Asad winked at her in the rear-view mirror and she blushed. She was sitting in the back next to Zaid's carseat. The baby was fast asleep.
That sleepover talk had been a close shave indeed. He couldn't wait to get home and seduce his wife out of that saree and blouse ... and thong.
And those heels.
Or may be he'd tell her to keep those on. Just those.
Sure, he had loved holding her as they danced, but that hadn't been enough. He recalled her perfumed softness as he molded her against him, her hot breath on his neck ... that soft sigh ... a bitten off moan as he'd pinched her waist--punishing her for that mouth-watering peek of a thong strap.
Mid-dance his thumb had slid under the tucked-in saree fabric to seek and dig out the strap. He'd pulled it to snap back hard at ther skin and she'd clung to him and whimpered. Their hungry eyes had held in a desperate eyelock. And he'd slowly pulled her tighter to him and ground against her.
"Asad!" she'd cried softly. "Please, please, just take me!"
Aaahhh, he'd growled under his breath. He wanted to. Right there.
But ...
Sh*it.
Asad just hoped he hadn't made a fool of himself in front of everyone. Because once he'd held her in his arms all tehzeeb and lihaaz had floated right out the window. He may as well have been a randy teen on prom night. And for once, even Zoya hadn't cautioned him with soft cries of "Mr. Khan, everyone's watching!" or "Allah miyan what's wrong with you, Mr. Khan!" No, she'd been a silent and smitten accomplice. God, he hoped they hadn't been completely shameless.
Asad wiped his brow and checked the rear-view mirror again. He'd been extra restrained while driving even though he'd wanted to jump every red light and speed through every check post.
Thank god, they were almost home.
But soon an ominous sound intruded on their lust-fueled fantasies and se*xual haze.
Whup ... whup ... whup. Whap. Whap. WHAP!
Asad's heart sank.
He knew that sound. The car couldn't carry the weight of all that musky anticipation.
Zoya's restless eyes collided with his in the rear-view mirror.
They had a flat tire.
Song in Title:
Rehna Hai Tere Dil Mein (2001): "Zara Zara Mehekta Hai"
Edited by Klondy - 8 years ago
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