In the curtains of their bedroom, pale gold light from the sun rays sloped across the walls and settled against the rise and fall of Aaravi's breathing.
She stirred gently taking in her surroundings, her lashes fluttered open and her vision blurred before sharpening slowly into a blur. The ceiling fan rotated lazily and the faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the room. A glass of water and a strip of tablets sat on the bedside table. She took her black circular glasses and put them on her face. Now that she was awake and could clearly see, she turned her head to see her husband.
Akshay stood there with a towel wrapped low around his waist, another towel in his hands as he rubbed it briskly through his damp hair. Droplets slid down the sharp lines of his shoulders, tracing over his collarbone and disappearing along his chest. He was facing the mirror and muttering something under his breath about misplaced files when he glanced sideways.
Their eyes met suddenly in the mirror; hers widening in amusement and his in shock. .
He spun around too fast, the towel in his hands slipping to the floor.
"Aap— uth gaye?" he blurted, voice cracking in the middle.
Aaravi's mouth fell open. "Aap... aap kapde kyun nahi pehne hue?"
He grabbed the fallen towel and held it awkwardly against his chest as though that solved anything. "Main bathroom mein tha! Kapde pehenne hi wala tha! Aap dekh kyun rahi ho?"
"Main dekh nahi rahi thi!" she shot back immediately, then pointed at him. "
"Aap khud mirror mein ghoor rahe the !"
" Self obsssesed !" She exclaimed.
"Main apne aap ko nahi dekh raha tha!" he said defensively. "Aap mujhe dekh rahi thi!"
She pressed her lips together, but a giggle escaped anyway.
His face flushed red, and he could feel his ears turning pink.
"Aaravi, haso mat, yaar" he muttered, turning halfway toward the wardrobe but still shielding himself like a dramatic sculpture. "Yeh koi funny situation nahi hai."
"Main toh bas... main toh bas uth ke dekhrahi thi," she said between laughter, pushing herself up slowly against the pillows
. "Aur saamne Singham ka Sasta copy khada tha."
He nearly dropped the towel again. "Aaravi!"
"Sharma kyun rahe ho patidev? Mai thodi aapki izat lootne wali hoon" she teased.
He stepped closer to the bed, seriousness returning to his features in a way that made her laughter soften.
"Kal raat..." he repeated quietly. "Aapko kuch yaad hai?"
She frowned faintly. "Mujhe... sirf yaad hai ke main bathroom gayi thi. Phir... mujhe thoda chakkar aaya. Bas. Uske baad blank."
He inhaled slowly, running a hand through his damp silky hair.
"Aap faint ho gayi thi," he said, voice steady but tight. "Forty minutes tak bathroom mein band thi. Main darwaza tod ke andar aaya."
Her brows lifted. "Darwaza... toda?"
"Haan toda!" he snapped before catching himself. "Aur kya karta? Paani chal raha tha. Aap response nahi de rahi thi. Pulse check karna pada mujhe ."
She stared at him, processing.
He stepped closer and placed a hand against her forehead automatically.
"Ab kaisa lag raha hai? Head spin ho raha hai? Nausea? Vision blur? Chest pain? Breath short lag raha hai? Haath thande ho rahe hain kya?"
She blinked at the rapid-fire interrogation.
"Akshay... main theek hoon."
"Proper answer do," he insisted. "Theek matlab kya? Zero dizziness?"
"Thoda sa halka lag raha hai."
"Kitna halka?" he demanded.
"Matlab... normal halka."
" Theek se batao aap!" He exclaimed
She stared at him for a second before bursting into another giggle.
"Yeh kya hai? Biwi ki inquiry chal rahi hai kya?.
He pulled the blanket aside abruptly and slid one arm behind her back, and the other under her knees.
"Akshay!" she squeaked as he lifted her effortlessly
" ek hafta bhi nahi hua shaadi ko, aur Aapne do baar bhi uthaliya hamein".
" yeh sab toh..." she paused theatrically
" Honeymoon me hota, hai na patidev?"
"Chup raho kuch bhi mat bolo," he said sharply his ears turning even redder.
. "Bathroom jana hai na?"
"Main chal sakti hoon!"
"Nahi. Aap phir faint hogayi toh?."
"Main baby nahi hoon!"
" baby hi ho aap, itna bak bak karne wali baby hai!" He argued back.
"Kal raat floor pe unconscious thi," he replied flatly, adjusting his grip. "
Argument mat karo."
She folded her arms dramatically around his neck.
"Waah. Shaadi ke teesre din hi kidnapping part two... kitne romantic ho aap."
He ignored the comment and carried her straight into the bathroom, placing her gently on the closed lid of the toilet.
"Five minute se zyada khadi nahi rehna," he instructed.
" Aur Door open rahega."
She looked up at him slowly.
"Door open?"
"Haan."
"Privacy naam ki cheez suna hai aapne?"
"Safety naam ki cheez zyada important hai."
She narrowed her eyes. "Aap bahar jaa rahe ho ya nahi?"
He crossed his arms. "Main yahin hoon."
"Yahin matlab?"
"Yahin matlab yahin."
She tilted her head grinning . "Andar bhi aaoge? Saath mein nahana hai?".
"Haan. Agar zarurat padhi toh." He responded with no hesitation.
She stared at him gawking in disbelief
"Excuse me?"
" oh right... Haan mujhe dobaara nahaane se Kya fyda" he added.
She slapped her forehead in frustration
" chii tharki insaan ke do upar wale level! Zara bhi sharam nahi aapko"
He gestured toward her weakly. "Arrey.. Aap phir faint ho gayi toh?"
"Main shower mein faint ho jaungi toh aap kya karoge?"
"Catch kar lunga."
"Hero ho kya! Pagal Uncha Lamba Kad!"
"Situation demand kare toh," he replied calmly.
She grabbed the nearest hand towel and threw it at his chest.
"Aap apni overacting kam karo aur bahaar niklo!""
"Main pati ban raha hoon," he corrected.
"Aap paranoid husband! ."
"Better paranoid than careless."
She opened her mouth to retort but paused when she noticed his jaw tighten again.
"Aap... kal raat bahut darr gaye the?" she asked quietly.
He looked away for a fraction of a second before answering. " thats Irrelevant, topic kyu badal rahi hoon! "
"Answer toh karo."
"Haan," he said finally, voice lower.
"Darr gaya tha main bahut .".
She softened. "Woh... Sorry."
He looked back at her immediately. "Sorry kis baat ka? Aapne plan karke faint thodi kiya tha kya?"
She shrugged faintly.
He exhaled slowly and stepped back toward the door. "Shower le lo. Main bahar hoon. Five minutes ka sirf."
"Ten," she bargained.
"Seven."
"Eight."
"Seven and a half."
She rolled her eyes. "Deal."
He stepped out but kept the door slightly ajar.
She shook her head under her breath and turned the water on gently.
Three minutes later, his voice floated in.
"Sab theek?"
"Haan!"
"Chakkar?"
"Nahi!"
"Balance?"
"Akshay!"
"Check kar raha hoon."
"Main bathroom mein hoon, interrogation room mein nahi!"
She could hear the faint shuffle of his steps just outside.
When she stepped out wrapped in a fresh robe, hair damp and cheeks flushed from warm water, he was standing exactly where he said he would be, fully dressed now, arms crossed, eyes scanning her like she might evaporate.
He walked forward immediately and took the towel from her hands.
"Sit."
"Main khud dry ho sakti hoon."
"Sit."
She sat.
He picked up another towel and began drying her hair with surprisingly careful movements.
"Zyada zor se mat," she muttered.
"Main zor se nahi kar raha."
"Kar rahe ho."
"Okay choti malkin bai"
" naazuk ladki" he muttered
She looked up at him through damp strands. "Kal tak aap mujhe naam se bula rahe the. Aaj choti malkin."
"Kal tak tum aise laash ki tarah padhi nahi thi."
" what the? Laash? Aise baatein mat karo ssubah subah" she said quietly.
He stared at her for a second, and softened
" sorry... woh thoda police mein habit ho jaata"
There was faint silence in their bedroom before Aaravi broke it again.
"Kal tak aap towel mein bhi mere saamne nangu pangu phir nahi rahe the."
His hands froze for half a second before resuming.
"Aaravi."
"Haan?"
"Mat chidhaya karo. Aur main nangu pangu nahi tha, sirf shirtless tha"
She smiled faintly.
When she stood up again, he immediately reached for her elbow.
"Slow."
"Main marathon nahi bhaag rahi."
"Phir bhi."
She pulled her arm free lightly. "Akshay, mujhe space chahiye."
He stilled.
"Space matlab?"
"Matlab main har second faint nahi hone wali hoon."
He studied her face carefully as though weighing risk versus trust.
She walked two steps deliberately on her own.
"Dekha?" she said, spreading her arms. "Zinda hoon."
He stepped closer anyway. "Pulse normal lag raha hai."
"Ab pulse bhi check karoge?"
"Already kar liya."
She gaped at him. "Kab?"
"When you were laughing" he replied
"You are impossible." She rolled her eyes
She walked to the mirror and began combing her hair slowly.
He watched her reflection instead of her directly.
"Kal raat kya hua tha?" he asked after a moment.
She paused mid-stroke.
"Pata nahi," she said honestly. "Bas... thoda heavy feel ho raha tha."
"Ky—"
"Mat poochiye," she cut in gently. "Main khud samajh nahi paayi."
He nodded once, though the answer clearly did not satisfy him.
"Doctor ne bola rest karne hai aapko," he said after a moment. "Aaj kahin nahi jaa rahe hum dono."
"Office aap?"
"Nahi."
She turned around fully. "Aap office miss karoge?"
"Haan."
"Seriously?"
"Haan."
"Ky—"
"Because aap ghar pe akeli nahi rehogi, and what if something happens to you again," he replied firmly.
She blinked.
"Main akeli reh sakti hoon."
"I can't afford any risks with you."
She sighed dramatically. "Overprotective husband syndrome."
"Better than irresponsible husband syndrome."
She walked toward the bed and flopped down intentionally harder than necessary. He was beside her in two strides immediately.
"Pain ho raha ha?"
"Acting kar rahi hoon main"
He narrowed his eyes and she looked up at him and grinned..
He adjusted the pillow behind her back carefully and handed her the water glass.
"Paani lelo."
"Ji swami ji," she said sweetly, taking it.
He gave her a long look.
"Taunt kam karo."
"Concern kam karo."
"Impossible."
"Same."
After a while, she settled on the couch of the living room flipping through channels. When she finally settled on the one she wanted. Season 3 of Naagin played.
On screen, the iconic background score of Naagin 3 swelled as Mahir confronted Bela about betrayal, shape-shifting vengeance hanging heavy in the air.
The living room door clicked and Akshay stepped inside, loosening his watch strap, his expression already scanning the room habitually.
Suddently he heard it before he saw her.
A very loud broken, dramatic sob echoed through the living room.
"Aaravi?"
He froze immediately dropping his keys on the console and crossing the living room in seconds.
. " What the-? Kya hua? Kya hua?" His eyes scanned her quickly for injury.
"Dard ho raha hai? Chakkar? Fever?"
She pointed shakily toward the television without looking at him.
"Woh... woh..."
He looked at the screen.
A serpent transformation montage played in slow motion.
He blinked.
" yeh kya Faltu-pan chal raha hai tv pe? Isko dekh ke ro rahi ho?"
She turned toward him as if he had insulted her ancestry.
"Aapko pata bhi hai kya ho raha hai?"
"Nahi," he said cautiously.
She sat up abruptly, blanket still wrapped around her shoulders like royal grief attire.
"Mahir ne Bela se pyaar kiya tha!" she cried. "Par Mahir ke parivaar hi buri hai! Aur ab Bela ko badla bhi lena hai aur pyaar bhi nibhana hai! Aap samajh rahe ho kitna complicated hai?"
He stared at her.
"Woh shape-shift kar sakti hai na?" he asked carefully.
"Woh naagin hai!" she snapped. "Obviously shape-shift karegi!"
"Right," he nodded slowly.
She clutched the blanket tighter. "Aur Mahir ko abhi tak sach nahi pata tha! Jab pata chalega na, uska dil toot jayega!"
Akshay sat down slowly beside her, processing the emotional intensity being directed at fictional serpents.
"Arrey choti malkin bai," he began carefully, "yeh... serial hi toh hai.".
"Toh?" she demanded.
"Toh matlab... actors hain."
"Emotions real hai!"
"Snake bhi real hai?"
She shoved his shoulder weakly. "Insensitive mat bano!"
He held up both hands in surrender. "Theek hai. Theek hai. Sorry ."
On screen, Bela wept over her internal conflict between revenge and love.
Aaravi's lips trembled again.
"Dekho! Dekho!" she cried, pointing. "Usko uske husband se sach chhupana pad raha hai!
She turned toward him, eyes glistening fresh. "Socho na... agar Mahir ko pata chale ki uski wife naagin hai aur uska parivaar villain hai... usko kitna shock lagega!"
"Agar mujhe pata chale ki meri wife naagin hai toh main bhi shock ho jaunga," he muttered.
" Wah Wah... khud ki biwi naagin hi hoti hai" she said bursting into louder sobbing.
He panicked instantly. "Arre arre! Main mazaak kar raha tha! Ro mat!"
"Tumhe kuch feel hi nahi hota!" she accused tearfully.
"Mujhe feel hota hai!" he protested. "Bas... snakes ke liye thoda kam."
She grabbed a cushion and pressed it dramatically to her chest
. "Aap samajh nahi rahe!
She nodded vigorously, tears spilling again. "Woh usko hurt nahi karna chahti... par usko badla bhi lena hai. Usko khud bhi samajh nahi aa raha kya kare."
He watched her face as she spoke, noticing the way her voice cracked slightly on certain words.
He reached for the tissue box and handed her one.
"Accha," he said gently. "Agar Mahir ko sach pata chale, toh kya karega?"
"Shayad pehle gussa hoga," she sniffed. "Phir samjhega."
"Kyuki pyaar karta hai?"
"Haan."
He nodded once.
On screen, another dramatic twist unfolded..
"Aaravi," he said, exasperated but soft, "aap kal faint hui thi. Aaj naagin pe ro rahi ho. Yeh Kya achanak se badlaav hai?"
He stood up suddenly and walked toward the kitchen.
She sniffed loudly behind him.
Two minutes later he returned with a plate of plain milk and crusty cornflakes floating in it.
"Yeh kya hai?" she asked tearfully.
He motioned the bowl towards her displaying the cornflakes.
Her eyes immediately lit up, " OMG DUDH CHIWDA!!!!"
"WHAT THE?" he gasped taken aback.
" Haan Dudh chiwda," she repeated, nodding earnestly.
. "Kya baat hai patidev! Kitna premium lag raha hai."
He stared at the bowl as if it had just been insulted personally.
"Yeh cornflakes hai."
"Dudh chiwda."
"Cornflakes."
"Chiwda."
"CORN. FLAKES."
She snapped theatrically. "Oye angrez ke aulaad, chup ho ja."
He recoiled. "Angrez ke—? Excuse me?"
"Haan!" she said, pointing accusingly at the bowl. "Yeh kya fancy accent mein cornflakes " "KORNFLAKES" she mimicked his stoic tone.
" kar rahe ho. Seedha bolo doodh mein bhiga hua chiwda."
" God yaar yeh ladki bhi na..." he sighed frustrated.
"Aaravi," he said, "agar aap coffee ko kadha bolna shuru kar dogi toh main kya karun?"
"Accha idea hai," she nodded thoughtfully.
He stared at her in disbelief.
She grinned faintly, tears still clinging to her lashes.
He picked up the bowl abruptly.
"Bas. Ab nataak band. Munh kholo."
She leaned back theatrically. "Main khud kha sakti hoon."
"Kal faint hui thi na"
"Ek baar!"
"Ek baar kaafi hota hai."
She chewed slowly, eyes still occasionally flicking to the television where Bela was plotting vengeance again.
"Dekh rahe ho?" she mumbled. "Usko bhi sacrifice karna pad raha hai."
"naagin ko cornflakes khilao, shaayad shant ho jaye," he muttered eyes flickering at her.
She almost choked..
"Insensitive!"
He rolled his eyes but lifted another spoonful.
She swallowed and then suddenly grabbed the spoon mid-air.
"Aap bhi khao."
"Maine kha liya pehle."
"Jhooth!"
"Sach."
"Aapne kuch nahi khaya."
Before he could protest, she scooped a spoonful and held it toward him.
"Aaravi."
"Khao."
"Main—"
"Khao warna main phir se ro dungi."
He immediately opened his mouth for her.
She smirked triumphantly as he chewed.
"Dekha?" she said. "Dudh chiwda sabko unite karta hai."
"Cornflakes," he corrected automatically.
Another emotional scene unfolded on television and her lips trembled again.
This time, before the tears could spill dramatically, his thumb moved gently under her eye brushing it with reverent care.
He seemed to realize what he had done a second later and cleared his throat lightly, focusing on the bowl again.
"Slow khao," he said. "Gala mat choke karo."
She watched him for a few seconds instead of the TV.
She gazed at his forest green eyes, the strands of silky black hair messily falling across his forehead, the shadow of his jaw.
"Aap bore ho rahe ho?" she asked softly.
"Haan thodu sa" he replied honestly.
She squinted at him.
" phir dekh kyu rahe ho?"
"Because you're here".
"Toh mujhe bhi hona chahiye naa..., with my wife" he added
She let him feed her again, quieter now.
The television noise faded into background drama.
He set the bowl down after a few minutes when she slowed.
"Bas?" he asked.
She nodded.
He placed the bowl on the side and reached for another tissue, dabbing gently at the side of her nose with surprising precision.
"Hero banne ki zarurat nahi hai," she muttered.
"Main hero nahi hoon."
"Phir kya ho?"
He paused for half a second before responding.
" Aapka pyaara husband ," he said with a slight smirk
He shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders properly so it didn't slip.
After a few moments of quiet, he spoke again, this time less defensive.
"Aaj lunch mein kya khaogi?"
She blinked.
"Lunch?"
"Haan."
"Order karenge?"
"Dekhenge," he replied vaguely. "Bolo."
She glared at him, " last time ki Tarah Tinde Ki sabzi khilayi na, toh sachme Thappad mardenge hum aapko Akshay!"
" Arrey Thappad kyu! First week mein hi domestic violence! He gasped taken aback
"Tinda mein kya problem hai?" he shot back. "Decent sabzi hai."
"Decent?" she gasped. "Tinda tab banta hai jab fridge mein aur kuch nahi hota."
"Galat," he said firmly. "Tinda tab banta hai jab log fit rehne chahte hain."
"Tinda tab banta hai jab insaan ko khud se dushmani ho."
He placed a hand over his chest in exaggerated disbelief.
" Shaadi ke baad yeh treatment milta hai?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly.
"Main tumhe tinde khila ke villain ho gaya?"
"Bilkul."
She folded her arms and lifted her chin. "Chicken rassa ( chicken curry) chahiye mujhe. Proper wala.
Aur agar diya... toh phir bhi Thappad milega"
"Phir?" he asked warily.
"Phir thappad."
He threw his hands up.
"Yeh first thappad hi kaafi nahi tha. Ab second bhi hai?"
She paused, then her expression shifted.
A slow, mischievous smile spread across her face conspiratorially..
"Second thappad alag category ka hai," she said casually.
He frowned. "Alag category?"
"Haan."
"Kya matlab?"
She leaned forward slightly, her blanket slipping from one shoulder as she looked up at him through her lashes.
"Muh wala."
He blinked.
"Muh wala thappad?" he repeated, genuinely confused.
She shook her head. "Arre buddhu."
"Buddhu?" he echoed, scandalized.
She leaned even closer, voice dropping playfully.
"Agar sach mein chicken rassa laa diye na... toh muh se aapko gal pe acchi si kissi denge.
He stared at her as if she had just announced she was running for prime minister.
"Kya?" he croaked.
"Kissi," she said, perfectly calm.
His brain visibly tried to process that sentence.
"You... aapne ... itna casually bol diya?".
" acha toh kaise bolna chahiye?" She asked innocently
He took a step back, then another, nearly bumping into the coffee table.
"Aaravi," he said carefully, "aapko bukhaar toh nahi hai?"
"Bukhaar mein log aise bolte hain kya?"
"Main confirm kar raha hoon!"
She crossed her arms. "Aapko problem kya hai?"
"Problem?" he repeated. "Aap meri taraf dekh ke bol rahi ho ke—"
"Kissi denge."
He inhaled sharply and looked at the ceiling for strength.
She watched him with open amusement.
"Aap sharma rahe ho?" she asked sweetly.
"Bilkul nahi," he snapped.
His ears were red and his cheeks were flushed.
"Face dekho apna."
"Mera face bilkul normal hai."
"Toh phir why are you avoiding eye contact?"
"I am not avoiding."
"You are."
He glared at her. "Tumhe yeh funny lag raha hai?"
"Thoda."
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered.
"Aise koi bolta hai kya?"
"Shaadi ho chuki hai," she reminded him. "Illegal thodi hai kissi Dena.. Infact shaadi ke baad kissi toh kuch nahi hai. log toh bedroom mein jaake.."
" CHIII!" He gasped plugging his fingers in his ears
" Nahi sunna mujhe, yeh ashleel baatein" he cried out.
He stood there, completely thrown off balance by his five-foot-four wife sitting under a blanket making bold declarations like it was nothing.
She tilted her head. "Dar gaye?"
"Main kyun darunga?" he demanded immediately
.
"Toh phir aise statue kyun ban gaye ho?"
She leaned forward again. "Simple si baat hai. Chicken rassa laa do. Reward milega."
"Reward?" he repeated weakly.
"Haan."
He folded his arms again, trying to recover some dignity. "Main koi school ka baccha nahi hoon jise reward diya jayega."
"Accha?" she challenged. "Phir kissi nahi chahiye?"
He choked on absolutely nothing.
"Aap aap aise sawal kaise pooch sakti ho?"
"Aise hi," she shrugged.
He turned around, paced two steps, then came
back. "Aap aaj tak naagin ke liye ro rahi thi. Aaj—"
"Topic change mat karo."
She looked up at him with exaggerated patience.
"Toh final boliye. Chicken rassa confirm?"
He tried to regain control of the situation. "Main order karunga."
She raised a warning finger.
"Proper jagah se," he clarified quickly.
"Spicy."
"Haan."
"Waise..."
"Kya?"
"Abhi practice karna hai kya?"
"Practice?"
"Dusra wala thappad."
His brain stopped functioning.
"Aaravi!"
" hahahaha mazaak kar rahi hoon" she giggled
Akshay stood alone in the kitchen sleeves rolled up as if he were about to interrogate a suspect, instead of cook something that made his stomach tighten just by looking at it.
His phone was propped up against the steel dabba of haldi, with YouTube open.
A Maharashtrian aunty on screen smiled confidently while holding up a bowl of marinated chicken.
"Sabse pehle kanda bhunenge," she declared cheerfully.
Akshay glanced at the cutting board.
On it sat a packet of raw chicken he had picked up from the halal store.
He swallowed.
"Yeh log isko itna casually kaise pakad lete hain..."
he muttered under his breath.
He picked up the packet using the very tips of his fingers.
The coldness seeped into his skin even through the plastic.
He exhaled slowly and tore it open.
The faint metallic smell rose immediately, and his face tightened.
He turned his head away instinctively, jaw clenched, eyes watering slightly from the sharpness of it.
"Bas," he whispered to himself. "Ek hi kaam hai."
He tipped the pieces into a bowl. The sound they made against steel was soft and wet, and his shoulders stiffened.
His vegetarian upbringing screamed in protest somewhere in the back of his mind.
Years of avoiding even the egg counter in grocery stores had not prepared him for this.
He grabbed the sink tap and washed his hands vigorously, soap foaming up to his wrists.
On screen, the aunty was already mixing haldi, red chili powder, gods masala, ginger-garlic paste, and salt into the chicken with complete ease .
Akshay stared at the bowl.
"Haath se mix karo," the aunty instructed brightly.
He froze.
"Haath se?"
He looked at his own hands as if they had betrayed him personally.
He reached into the drawer and pulled out a spoon.
The aunty laughed on screen. "Haath se hi achha mix hota hai."
He looked back at the bowl.
Aaravi's voice echoed in his memory. "Chicken rassa chahiye. Proper wala."
He inhaled deeply.
Then, with visible reluctance, he slipped his fingers into the bowl.The texture made him suck in a sharp breath. The chickens skin felt cold and slippery to touch. Almost slimy and wet.
"Bhagwan," he muttered, eyes squeezed shut for half a second as he forced himself to turn the pieces, coating them in masala. The red powder clung to his fingers, staining them orange. Ginger-garlic paste stuck under his nails.
He kept going.
Every instinct told him to pull away, to wash his hands again, to retreat.
Instead, he mixed until the chicken was fully coated.
He pulled his hands out slowly, staring at the mess on his fingers.
There was a flicker of triumph beneath the discomfort.
"Ho gaya," he murmured.
He washed his hands again, scrubbing harder this time.
He attacked the onions with unnecessary aggression, perhaps transferring his earlier trauma with his short wife, into clean, decisive slices.
Oil heated in the kadhai, shimmering under the kitchen light.
When he dropped the onions in, they sizzled loudly, and the familiar sound steadied him.
The aroma of frying onions filled the air, grounding him.
"Yeh manageable lag raha bai," he muttered.
He followed the video carefully, adding ginger-garlic paste, tomatoes, dry coconut, goda masala. The spices bloomed in the oil, turning the mixture deep red-brown.
He stirred carefully, watching the oil begin to separate at the edges just like the aunty had shown.
Then came the moment again.
"Ab chicken daal dijiye," the aunty said.
He stared at the marinated bowl.
He picked it up and tipped it into the kadhai quickly, stepping back as it hit the hot masala with a sharp hiss.
The smell changed instantly, becoming richer and more aromatic.
He swallowed again, forcing himself to stir.
The chicken pieces moved through the thick masala, and he kept his gaze fixed on the spoon rather than the meat itself..
He stirred patiently, sweat forming at his temples despite the kitchen fan running at full speed.
Minutes passed and the color deepened.
The masala thickened beautifully around the pieces. He added hot water, adjusted salt cautiously, and let it simmer.
Steam rose in fragrant waves, carrying the scent of chili and something nostalgic he could not name.
He stood there watching it bubble, feeling an unfamiliar mix of exhaustion and quiet determination.
When he finally switched off the stove, the rassa gleamed a deep reddish brown, oil floating delicately on top.
He quickly transferred it into a serving bowl, wiped the edges clean, and arranged it on the dining table. He quickly cleaned up the masalas and mess or any traces of his cooking
Then he walked into the living room where Aaravi had just stepped out of their bedroom after studying.
"Haan?" she asked lazily.
"Order aa gaya," he said casually.
Her head snapped up.
"Sach?"
"Haan. Fresh hai."
She shot up from the couch so fast ththe blanket fell behind her. "Itni jaldi?"
"Express delivery," he replied, hoping his voice sounded steady.
She rushed to the table.
The moment the aroma reached her, she froze.
Her eyes widened.
She leaned closer, inhaling deeply.
"Yeh..." her voice softened, "yeh toh bilkul ghar ke chicken jaisa smell kar raha .
She turned toward him abruptly and threw her arms around him with full force.
The impact nearly made him lose balance.
"Akshay!" she exclaimed, hugging him tightly.
"Thank you!"" Thank you!!"
Her arms squeezed around his waist, and her face pressed against his chest. He stood stiff for a second, startled by the intensity, then slowly wrapped his arms around her.
"Arre," he said softly, "itna bhi—"
She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining. "Aapne proper jagah se order kiya na?
"Haan," he lied smoothly. " ek 5 star Recommended place."
She hugged him again, even tighter this time.
His hands hovered for a second before settling against her back.
"Pagal ladki," he murmured quietly.
She pulled away and immediately sat down, serving herself eagerly.
He watched carefully as she took the first bite.
"Exactly," she whispered.
His shoulders loosened slightly.
"Exactly?" he asked.
"Bilkul waise hi," she said, voice thick with emotion. "Masala, emotions, feelings. spice... sab kuch ."
She took another bite quickly, as if afraid it might disappear.
He sat across from her, pretending to adjust his phone while watching every reaction carefully.
She kept eating, smiling between bites.
"Aapko bhi chakhna chahiye," she said suddenly, holding up a spoon toward him.
His heart skipped.
"Main baad mein," he replied quickly. "Aap khao pehle."
—————————————————————————-
Sunday afternoons in the Banerjee household followed their usual rhythm.
Pihu sat scattered with crayons across the living room floor like confetti, humming to herself while coloring something that looked like a purple dinosaur wearing bangles.
Mishti stood in the kitchen doorway with her arms folded, watching her daughter with the sharp attention of someone who had learned that silence from a four-year-old usually meant disaster.
The doorbell rang and Pihu's head snapped up so fast her ponytail bounced.
"Maaaan unccclllleee!" she shrieked before Mishti could even process who it might be.
She scrambled to her feet and ran toward the door, tiny feet thudding against the tiles.
"Pihu! Dheere!" Mishti called out, already walking briskly behind her.
The door swung open to reveal Abhimanyu standing there in a simple white T-shirt and jeans, one hand casually tucked into his pocket and the other holding a clay pot tied with red string.
His grin widened when he saw Pihu.
"Areee meri cadet!" he declared. "Reporting for duty?" he saluted dramatically.
Pihu jumped straight into his arms.
"Maaan uncle aa gaye!" she yelled again for emphasis, as if Mishti hadn't heard the first time.
Abhimanyu lifted her easily, spinning her once in the air.
"Aur kaun aayega?. Time pe report karta hoon."
Mishti crossed her arms tighter as she reached them. "Tujhe kisi ne bulaaya tha?"
He looked at her over Pihu's shoulder with exaggerated innocence.
"Mirchi, Sunday hai. Neighbour ko milne ke liye invitation chahiye kya?"
"Mirchi mat boliye mujhe," she snapped.
He ignored that and held up the pot dramatically.
"Special delivery."
Pihu gasped. "Kya hai isme?"
Abhimanyu leaned closer and whispered loudly, "Matki rasgulla."
Pihu let out a squeal so high pitched that even the pigeons outside seemed startled.
Mishti's eyes narrowed immediately. "Nahi."
Pihu froze mid-celebration. "Kyun?"
"Kyuki tumne lunch properly finish nahi kiya baby."
"Kiyaa!" Pihu protested.
"Half khaya tha."
Abhimanyu shifted Pihu to one hip and looked at Mishti with mock shock.
"Half khaya tha? Mirchi, bachchi hai. Bodybuilder thodi hai."
"Abhimanyu," she said sharply.
"Oho, full naam aa gaya."
He stepped inside casually as if he owned half the house.
Mishti shut the door with unnecessary force. "Aap please bahar hi reh sakte the."
"Pihu ne welcome kiya hai mujhe. Official entry mil chuki hai."
Pihu wriggled down from his arms and tugged at the matka eagerly. "Kholo na!"
"Ruko," Mishti said firmly. "Pehle haath dho ke aao."
"Mummaaa!" Pihu whined.
Abhimanyu crouched down to her level. "Beta, mummy ko batau ki haath clean hain. Inspection pass."
Mishti placed both hands on her hips. "Pihu baby, tumhaare ye Maan uncle ko batao ki ghar mein rules hote hain."
Pihu looked from one to the other, eyes wide.
Abhimanyu leaned closer to Pihu conspiratorially.
"Tumhaari mummy ko discipline ka award mila hai kya?"
Mishti shot him a glare. "Aur aapko nuisance ka."
He placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "
Dil tod diya, Mirchi."
"Naam se bulaaiye mujhe."
"Thik hai, Mirchi ji."
" Mirchi mat bolo mujhe Abhimanyu sach mein maar padega!!l" she yelled at him
" acha toh Kya boldu..." he paused pretending to consider for a moment.
" Mishti Khanna kaise sound karta?" He grinned.
Mishti's eyes widened and she smacked his arm hard in outrage.
" Ahhhh! Mujhe kyu maara" he yelped
He smacked her forehead with his 2 fingers.
" Heyyyy how dare you" she smacked his arm again.
He pinched the side of her waist in retaliation.
" MUAHAHAHA revenge" he grinned
Pihu rubbed her forehead with both hands and groaned loudly. "Stopppp!"
She sighed like a tired daadi. "Aap log phir se shuru ho gaye."
Abhimanyu tried to suppress a smile. "Dekha?
Bichaari Bachchi bhi bol rahi hai."
"Pihu," Mishti said patiently, "andar jao, haath dho ke aao. Phir decide karenge."
Pihu marched toward the washroom dramatically, muttering, "Main rasgulla khaungi. Main khaungi."
Abhimanyu stood up slowly, placing the matka on the table.
"Waise," he said casually, "sirf do hi hain."
Mishti's eyebrows shot up. "Do?"
"Haan."
"Pihu ke liye laaye ho na?"
"Of course."
"Phir do kyun?"
He smirked slightly. "Ek Pihu ke liye. Ek mere liye obviously."
" tum toh mirchi hi ho, tumse sweet se Kya Matlab!"
He leaned against the dining chair comfortably.
"Mirchi, tension mat lo. Sugar level control mein rakhenge."
"Main control kar lungi."
"Sure?"
She gave him a look that could slice steel.
Pihu came running back, hands still slightly damp, and climbed onto the chair.
"Ab?" she asked impatiently.
Abhimanyu untied the red string slowly, dragging the moment for dramatic effect.
Mishti watched him carefully as if he might sneak something illegal into her child's system.
The lid came off and inside , two perfectly round rasgullas sat soaking in light syrup, soft and white.
Pihu's eyes sparkled. "Wowww."
"Chhota piece Lena," Mishti warned immediately.
"Mirchi," Abhimanyu said lightly, "rasgulla ko insult mat karo. Pura khaya jaata hai."
"Sugar high ho jayega."
"Sunday hai."
"Bedtime aap handle karenge?"
He paused.
"Point noted," he admitted.
He picked up one rasgulla gently and placed it in a small bowl for Pihu.
"Slowly," Mishti instructed.
"Ji madam," Abhimanyu replied sarcastically.
Pihu took a bite, syrup dripping slightly onto her fingers.
She closed her eyes dramatically, as if experiencing enlightenment.
"Yummm," she said with full sincerity.
Abhimanyu watched her with a softness that Mishti pretended not to notice.
"Dekha?" he said quietly.
Mishti looked at her daughter, then back at him.
"Bas ek hi."
"Ek hi hai."
She eyed the second rasgulla suspiciously.
They stared at each other in silence for a long second.
Pihu looked up mid-bite. "Phir se start?"
Abhimanyu suddenly picked up the second rasgulla and held it up. "
"Pihu beta, mummy ko batau ki sharing is caring."
Mishti pointed at him.
"Pihu baby, tumhaare ye uncle ko batao ki healthy eating bhi caring hai."
Pihu groaned loudly. "Aap dono kyun ladte rehte ho?"
"Main nahi ladta," Abhimanyu said instantly.
"Main bhi nahi," Mishti replied.
They spoke at the same time and then glared at each other again.
Without warning, Abhimanyu stepped closer to Mishti.
Before she could react, he gently but quickly pressed the rasgulla toward her mouth.
"Abhimanyu!" she gasped.
"Bas ek bite," he said.
She tried to protest, but the syrupy sweetness touched her lips and instinct took over.
She bit down reflexively.
Her eyes widened as she realized what had just happened.
Pihu clapped. "Maa ne kha liyaaa!"
Mishti chewed slowly, glaring at Abhimanyu over the sweetness dissolving in her mouth.
He reached out and lightly pinched her cheek.
"Mirchi ko bhi kabhi kabhi muh mishti karna chahiye."
Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second at the unexpected closeness.
"Haath hataaiye," she said quietly.
He withdrew his hand but did not step back immediately.
For a brief moment, the playful noise between them softened into something dangerously familiar.
Pihu broke the silence by licking syrup off her fingers loudly.
"Yeh best Sunday hai," she declared.
Mishti cleared her throat and stepped aside.
"Bas," she said firmly. "Aur nahi."
Abhimanyu picked up the empty matka and shrugged lightly.
"Mission successful."
"Next time mat laaiyega," Mishti warned.
He smiled lazily. "Dekhenge, Mirchi."
Pihu slid off her chair and hugged his leg. "Kal phir aana."
He looked down at her and ruffled her hair gently.
"Order milega toh aaunga."
Mishti watched them, trying to keep her expression neutral while her daughter giggled uncontrollably at something he whispered.
——————————————————————————
Veer stood at the head of the table, jacket buttoned, tie perfectly aligned, rolling his sleeves.
The presentation slide behind him displayed a quarterly performance analysis for the company's new FMCG expansion campaign.
As Marketing Head of Malhotra Consumer Brands, he had overseen the entire rollout himself.
"The projected brand penetration in Tier-2 cities exceeded initial forecasts by 3.7 percent," he said evenly.
"However, the digital conversion rates in urban clusters require recalibration.
The influencer-led strategy performed strongly in the 18 to 24 demographic, but we need sharper segmentation for working professionals."
The board members listened intently. His father, Vikram Malhotra, CEO and founder, sat three seats down, fingers steepled thoughtfully.
Veer tapped the screen to switch slides. "We are revising the Q3 media allocation. Television spend will reduce by eight percent and shift toward performance-driven digital placements. ROI modelling supports the adjustment."
There was no unnecessary movement in his posture, and barely any hesitation in his words.
When a senior director attempted to interrupt, Veer lifted a hand calmly.
"Allow me to finish please ," he said, not raising his voice.
The director leaned back and a subtle knock came at the glass door.
Veer did not turn immediately. "Yes?"
His assistant Neha stepped inside carefully, tablet clutched to her chest.
"Sir, I apologize for interrupting. Mrs. Malhotra is here."
For a fraction of a second, something softer took place in his expression.
"She's here?" he repeated before catching himself.
"Yes, sir. She's waiting in your cabin."
Veer cleared his throat. "We will adjourn this meeting. Please circulate the revised projections by tomorrow morning. I want the updated consumer insights report on my desk by nine."
The directors nodded, surprised at the sudden conclusion but too accustomed to questioning his authority.
As chairs shifted and papers gathered, Veer stepped back from the table too quickly, his shoe catching the leg of his chair.
The chair scraped loudly against the floor, and he nearly stumbled before steadying himself with a hand against the table.
His father raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Veer adjusted his jacket briskly as if nothing had occurred. "We'll reconvene next week."
He exited the room with long strides that were slightly faster than usual.
His cabin door stood half-open.
Inside, Shriya stood near the bookshelf, her back partially turned as she examined a framed photograph on his desk.
She wore a soft pastel blue saree with delicate silver zari along the border. The fabric fell gracefully around her, and her pleats were arranged with careful precision. Her blouse was modest, high-necked with subtle embroidery along the sleeves.
Her mangalsutra chain rested against her collarbone, and small jhumkas swayed gently when she turned her head. Her hair was parted neatly, tied into a low bun adorned with a few loose strands framing her face.
When she heard the door open, she turned.
Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him.
He stopped a few steps inside the room.
For a moment, neither of the 2 spoke.
"You came," he said softly.
She nodded, fingers clasped together in front of her. "Haan."
His gaze lingered longer on her gentle frame more than necessary before he remembered to breathe.
"Was the drive comfortable?" he asked, voice gentler than it had been back in the boardroom ten minutes ago.
"Yes," she replied. "Your driver was very polite."
He stepped closer, then hesitated, unsure where to stand.
"Um," he began awkwardly, "did you... bring tiffin?"
The question left his mouth before he could reconsider.
He froze immediately.
"I mean," he rushed to correct himself, lifting both hands slightly, "not that you had to. Of course you didn't have to. It's absolutely not your responsibility. You have your own work, your own schedule. I didn't mean to imply that—"
She blinked at him, startled by the rapid apology
.
"I just thought," he continued, visibly flustered, "sometimes people bring lunch and I should not assume—"
A soft laugh escaped her.
The sound halted his frantic explanation.
"I did bring a small tiffin of cut fruits," she said, smiling faintly.
He stared.
"You did?"
She nodded, lifting a small insulated bag from the side table.
His ears flushed slightly. "I— I was just clarifying that it was not expected."
"I know," she replied gently.
He exhaled slowly..
"But," she added shyly, "actually... I am very hungry."
His entire posture shifted instantly.
"Hungry?" he repeated with concern..
Without thinking, he reached for her hand. His fingers wrapped around hers carefully, as if afraid she might pull away. He guided her toward the couch near the window.
"Sit," he said softly.
She allowed herself to be seated, adjusting her saree pleats modestly.
He pressed the intercom. "Neha?"
"Yes, sir," came the reply.
"Please arrange lunch immediately. A full spread. Two thalis, paneer tikka, dal makhani, steamed rice, butter naan, curd, fresh salad, and dessert."
There was a slight pause from Neha on the other end of the phone. "Sir, from where?"
"From The Urban Tadka."
"Yes, sir."
"And make it quick please, my wife's waiting. ."
He turned back to Shriya. "It will take fifteen minutes."
She smiled. "It's okay. I brought something small."
He shook his head. "You said you're hungry."
She looked down at their still-joined hands.
He noticed and withdrew quickly, clearing his throat.
"I mean," he added quietly, "you should eat properly."
She opened the tiffin box and revealed neatly packed cut up mango slices and orange.
He sat across from her, watching as she tore a piece and took a bite..
She chewed thoughtfully, glancing at him. "Aap nahi khaoge?"
"I will," he replied. "After you."
She tilted her head slightly. "Why?"
"You were hungry first naa.. toh ladies first"
She took another bite, smiling faintly at his seriousness.
A knock sounded at the door as Neha entered with the restaurant delivery, placing dishes carefully on the table. Veer thanked her and ensured everything was arranged properly before dismissing her.
He served Shriya himself, placing rice onto her plate, ladling dal carefully so it did not spill.
She watched him with quiet amusement.
"You don't have to," she said softly.
"I want to," he replied without looking up.
She began eating again, this time taking generous
bites.
He sat opposite her, hands folded loosely, observing each movement as if verifying that she was truly satisfied.
After several minutes, she paused and looked at him directly.m
"Aap bas dekhte rahoge? Ya khud bhi khaoge?"
" Kya khaana hai?" She asked
" Aapko." He responded
She froze immediately, " Ji?"
He immediately realized what he had just said, " Nahi! Mera Matlab- woh mai... aapke baad khaalunga khaana" he corrected himself rubbing his neck in embarrassment.
She smiled, warmth spreading across her face.
"Aap bhi khao.".
She picked up a piece of naan and placed it gently on his plate. "Please."
He shook his head.
" aise nahi" he said
" kyu? Matlab?" She asked confused
He smiled softly, " aap khilayengi nahi humein?" .
she chuckled softly.
"Kya hua?" he asked, instantly alert.,
" idhar aayiye" she said gesturing, the spoon of rice closer to his mouth.
He hesitated for a moment before taking the bite, he ate in a controlled manner but softened everytime he looked at her.
Suddenly he made eye contact with her, and shyly looked away. His cheeks flushed red and he chuckled softly to cover up his fluster.
" Awww kitne cute lagte ho aap panic karte waqt... ekdum Kuchu-puchu! ," she said
He looked at her through his fingers.
"Kuchu puchu??." He asked
"haan." She giggled
She leaned slightly forward, lowering her voice playfully.
"Aapko main pasand hoon kya?"
He nearly dropped the spoon.
"Shriya Ji... main..."
She laughed gently, reaching forward and taking his plate.
"Chaliye. Ab main aapko aur feed karungi.".
She picked up a small piece of roti, dipped it in paneer curry, and held it toward him.
"Arrey aap khao na? ," he said softly.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Main aapko khilana chahti hoon."
His throat tightened slightly and , he leaned forward and accepted the bite.
The paneer was soft, warm, and , coated in creamy gravy with a hint of spice.
He chewed carefully, watching her.
She smiled when he swallowed.
"Accha hai?"
He nodded.
"Bahut."
She picked another bite and fed him again rice with dal.
The steam touched his skin gently as he leaned closer.
When she finished half her plate, she leaned back slightly satisfied with the meal.
He immediately reached for a tissue and wiped a tiny drop of curry from the corner of her lip with careful precision.
She looked at him in surprise.
He panicked again.
"Main bas—clean kar raha tha."
She giggled softly placing her hand on his.
"Aap bahut thoughtful ho."
He looked down at their joined hands and then smiled at her.
After eating some more, He remained sitting for a few a moments, then walked to his desk and picked up a small notepad.
His fingers tapped against it lightly and sweat collected on his temples.
Shriya noticed the hesitation.
"Aap kuch kehna chahte ho?" she asked gently.
He looked up.
"Yes."
His hand moved to adjust the watch on his wrist.
"Agle... kuch din mein ek event hai," he began.
"Corporate event."
"Kaunsa?" she asked.
He cleared his throat.
"Annual gala dinner."
She tilted her head.
"Company ka?"
"Haan."
He took a small step closer to the couch.
"Har saal hota hai. Clients, executives, partners... sab aate hain."
She listened attentively.
"Aur?"
He looked slightly uncomfortable.
"Usually employees apne spouses ko bhi invite karte hain."
The word spouses hung in the air for a moment.
She blinked once.
Then smiled.
"Achha."
He nodded.
"Yes."
.
Veer's fingers tightened around the notepad.
He seemed determined to phrase the next sentence properly.
"Main soch raha tha... agar aap free ho..."
His voice lowered slightly.
"Toh... aap mere saath aaogi?"
The question sounded almost formal.
Shriya looked at him with clear amusement.
"Veer ji."
"Haan?"
"Aap mujhe... date pe pooch rahe ho?"
His eyes widened immediately.
"Nahi! Matlab... haan... matlab..."
He struggled to reorganize the sentence.
"This is professional event," he tried again. "Corporate environment hai."
She watched him with a smile that grew wider every second.
He exhaled slowly.
"Main bas... chah raha tha aap mere saath aao."
The honesty in his tone softened the moment.
" And.. because you look beautiful in sarees" he added quietly.
Her cheeks warmed slightly and he continued before he lost the nerve.
"Main... actually... I mean..."
He swallowed with a gulp.
"Main chahunga ki us din tum saree pehno."
He looked at the floor briefly, then added with a shy honesty that made the sentence softer.
"Taaki main poori shaam tumhe dekhne ka bahana bana sakun."
Shriya stared at him for a second.
Then she laughed quietly, lowering her gaze as a faint blush colored her face.
"Veer ji" she said softly.
"Haan?"
"Haw aap kitne awkward ho!" She giggled
He nodded rubbing his neck.
"Sorry."
She looked up again.
"Lekin cute bhi."
His ears turned red instantly.
He coughed lightly.
"Toh... aap aaogi?" he asked again.
She stood slowly and walked closer to him.
He straightened instinctively..
"Ek condition hai."
"Condition?" he repeated.
"Haan."
"Kaunsi?"
She folded her hands behind her back.
"Us din aap toh aapko mere saamne bilkul bhi nervous nahi hona."
He blinked nodding
" theek hai shriya ji"
"Phir practice karni padegi." She chuckled
He tilted his head slightly.
"Practice kiski?"
She nodded.
"Jaise... abhi."
Before he could react, she extended her hand toward him.
"Mr. Veer Malhotra," she said with playful formality. "Would you like to accompany me to the gala?"
He stared at her hand.
Then he slowly took it into his.
"Mrs. Shriya Malhotra," he replied softly, "I would be honored to join you"
Their hands remained joined for a moment longer than necessary.
He continued before his courage disappeared.
"I mean... obviously tum kisi bhi outfit mein achhi lagogi, lekin..."
He inhaled slowly and then added , his voice lower and more confident this time.
"If you wore a saree to the gala, I think the entire room would stop for a second."
She turned her face slightly away, a shy smile forming despite her effort to remain composed.
"Aapko itna describe karne ki zarurat nahi thi," she murmured with a gentleness of a serene ocean.
He realized suddenly how much he had said.
A faint flush spread along his ears.
"Main bas...".
"Presentation mode main ho Kya? ," she finished for him gently.
He laughed under his breath.
"Habit hai."
Silence followed for a moment and the sunlight shifted slightly across the glass window, reflecting warm tones across the room.
"Theek hai," she said softly.
"Main chalungi."
He nodded immediately.
"Teen din baad."
"Teen din baad," she repeated.
She turned toward the door, adjusting the end of her saree pallu over her shoulder closing the door gently behind her.
Veer remained where he stood, near the center of the room, his gaze drifted toward the window where she had been standing only moments earlier.
For a long moment, he simply watched the space she had occupied.
The faint outline of sunlight still rested across the floor where her saree had brushed against the carpet.
Somewhere beyond the busy corridors of his office, Shriya walked among employees who had no idea that their usually composed marketing head of the company had just spent ten minutes stumbling over compliments for his wife like an awkward college student.
A huge grin appeared on his face because the image of her standing by the window in that saree remained vivid in his mind.
" Hayeee shriya ji.." he smiled gazing in the distance where she left.
And the thought of seeing her again in a saree at the gala three days later filled him with an anticipation he had never associated with a corporate event before.
" YES! YES! LETS GO VEER!" he said to himself as he hollered and chuckled in excitement clenching his fist in a celebratory fist pump.
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