Page 78 of Lawfully Yours

“What?” he said, entirely too casual. “I wouldn’t know what else to say. I mean, it’s not like I’ve had hands-on experience with your so-called ‘right places.’”

The comment hit her like a spark to dry firewood.

Her cheeks turned scarlet in an instant, and her thighs pressed together reflexively beneath the table in a desperate attempt to quell the deep, aching pulse that bloomed in her body without warning. It was ridiculous how easily Kushal could unravel her composure, sometimes just with a look. And tonight, with a line delivered in that maddeningly calm tone, full of heat and mischief and devastating honesty, she couldn’t control her bodily reactions no matter what.

Before she could find a way to cut the tension with a retort, the attendant returned, not noticing the storm between them.

“Shall I take your order, ma’am?” the woman asked brightly.

Arundhati cast a polite smile as she placed her order.

“And for you, sir?” the attendant asked, turning to Kushal.

“I’ll have whatever my wife is having,” he said, eyes still locked on Arundhati.

The attendant smiled as though she were watching a couple mid-flirt, oblivious to the complexity of what truly simmered between them.

As she began to turn away, Kushal added, “Just make it less spicy, please. We’ve got enough spice between us to set the whole table on fire, right, baby?”

Arundhati gripped the table fork tightly, pressing it between her palms to keep from hurling it at him. Kushal chuckled,clearly enjoying her restraint, and leaned back again, swirling the last sip of his drink before downing it in one smooth motion.

The food arrived shortly after, and for a few minutes, they both ate in silence. Arundhati focused on her plate, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge the way her body still responded to him even when her brain screamed no.

But Kushal broke the silence; this time, his voice had something far deeper than flirtation. “Feels like ages since we sat and ate together.”

She didn’t respond.

“I hate eating alone,” he added, pushing a piece of food around on his plate.

Still, she said nothing. But something in her softened.

Kushal’s eyes remained fixed on his food as he continued.

“You know, Aru… ever since I understood what loneliness really meant, I’ve eaten alone. That small, cold house, I continued to live alone after my parents died… I used to boil potatoes or whatever I could cook at eleven years old. No salt, no spice. I didn’t know any better to cook at that age. And I never complained. I thought… maybe that was my fate.”

Her fork paused midway to her mouth. She looked up slowly, her gaze meeting the shadows in his.

“I grew up eating alone all the f*cking time. Houses changed. Status changed, but one thing never changed, and that was the fact that I was lonely.”

Her eyes welled up just visualising what he said.

“But then you came,” he said, finally lifting his head to look at her. “As my wife. You stepped into my house, into my life. You made tea. I made breakfast. You cooked daal. I burnt toast. We fought over it, but we laughed. We shared something in that kitchen. At that table.”

He swallowed, his jaw tightening. “And then you left. Just like that. And I was back to eating alone. Staring at that samechair. Wondering how I’d never realised just how much worse it is, to eat alone once you’ve known what it’s like to share.”

Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, but she forced herself to pretend calm. His words had struck something vulnerable, but she wouldn’t show it.

Instead, her voice turned cold. “You’re getting better at this every day.”

His brow creased slightly. “At what?”

“Manipulation,” she said. “This entire speech? Your orphan story, your pain, your loneliness, it’s your victim card, Kushal. Maybe true, but nicely played.”

The pain in his eyes was immediate, but fleeting. He masked it with a tight smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She realised it was cruel of her to say that, the moment she said it. She had crossed a line. A bad one. And she hated herself for it. But her pride wouldn’t let her take it back.

She wiped her lips with her napkin and pushed back her chair to go. But before she could fully rise, his hand reached across the table and caught her wrist, not hard, but enough to stop her.