Page 35

She blushed crimson at my question, fluttering her eyes low.

“Kabhi aapke saath karenge aisa tab pata chalega aapko...

kabhi to aapko bhi humaari aawashyakta hogi, tabhi chhod kar chale jaayenge hum,”

(You’ll know if you’ll go through it.

Just wait, when you’ll need me the most one day, I’ll leave you like that.) She playfully whined, making me laugh.

She smiled seeing me laughing, and I gently straightened up, signalling her to rise from my lap.

Adjusting her clothes, she stood up and said softly, “I’ve never felt this good before.”

I smiled and stood up as well.

Running a hand through my hair, I walked over to her bed and lay down, resting my head on the pillow.

“Now,”

I said with a quiet grin, “I want you to return the favour.”

Shocked, she widened her eyes at my words.

A flush deepened on her cheeks as she slowly walked over to me.

Her fingers trembled as they brushed against her bangles, and she sat down at the edge of the bed.

I watched her blink nervously, drawing a deep breath before meeting my gaze with soft, hesitant eyes.

She shifted closer, inching forward, and brought her hand to my stomach, touching me gently but unsurely.

Then, she looked up into my eyes, uncertain, as if her heart held questions her lips couldn’t speak.

I took her wrist gently and brought it to my lips.

“You have such beautiful hands, little wife,”

I murmured.

She grew even shyer, blinking fast.

I kissed her fingers with care and whispered in a slow, tender tone, “I’m really hungry, little bird.”

She swallowed hard, and her lips parted slightly at my words.

I smiled, my voice warm and inviting as I spoke again, “Aaj aapke haath se bana Gatte khana hai.

Hum chahte hai ki aap bhojan bana kar layein humaare liye,”

(I wish to eat Gatta Curry made by you.

I want you to cook for me.)

She frowned, taking her hands back. “What???”

Her voice grew louder as she asked, and I arched my brow at her tone.

“I mean... what?”

she asked again, slowly.

I held her gaze, meaning what I said, and she gave a shaky laugh.

“Cooking? At this time?”

“Ji, I’m hungry,”

I said, and she again let out an uneasy chuckle.

“Yadi humein kisi ne dekh liya to?”

(What if someone sees me?) She asked anxiously.

“So, what? Are you embarrassed about cooking for me?”

I asked, and she laughed a bit too dramatically.

“Hahaha, no… no, not at all, Ranaji.

Why would I be?”

she said, still smiling.

I smiled back.

“Then off you go.”

She nodded with a grin, stepping down from the bed.

Her expression briefly betrayed that she hadn’t expected something like that from me.

Picking up her dupatta, she placed it over her head and said, “I’ll be back in some time.”

I nodded and looked at her as she opened the door and left.

I stood up from the bed and walked into her bathroom for a long bath.

When I closed my eyes, thoughts of whatever happened back in the kingdom rushed like a storm.

My Maasimaa was firmly opposed to any peace treaty being sealed between Suryagarh and Mahableshgarh.

I had even spoken to my Guruji and my brothers.

Ranvijay and Agastya both saw the treaty from a political perspective and agreed that it was necessary for the people.

Guruji said the same, reminding me of a king’s true duty.

He said that a king is a servant to his people.

A king exists for the people, not the other way around.

That every decision I make should be for their good, not for my interests.

That meant establishing a peace treaty, even if it meant letting go of my revenge.

But beyond all of that, my heart kept circling back to Nandani.

I had given her every reason to walk away from me, yet she stayed by my side, against everything.

She risked everything for me… for us.

Seeing how much she believed in our relationship, the mere thought of hurting her twisted my heart.

For her, I was willing to let go of my revenge.

What use was the fruit of revenge if I couldn’t share it with her? What joy was there in victory if she wasn’t there to hold my hand?

And deep down, I knew that if she ever decided to leave, she wouldn’t look back, not even if I died.

I knew her that well.

I came out of the bathroom.

Her chamber was filled with her scent.

Honestly, her chamber had always felt like heaven to me.

She didn’t know it, but whenever I missed her too much, I used to sneak in here just to breathe her in—on the bed, the couch, even in the bathroom.

I couldn’t explain it, but her scent was like a drug.

I couldn’t go a single day without inhaling it.

During those two years, I stayed away from her—just to test if I could live without her—I’d still find myself here, again and again.

Smelling her dupatta, her pillows, her towel… every corner of this room felt sacred.

Every piece of her was precious to me.

After bathing, I grabbed her towel and pressed it to my face before drying myself.

Wearing my lower and holding my kurta, I stepped into the bedroom.

And my eyes fell on her, standing by the window, gazing down.

“What happened?”

I asked.

She startled at my voice, shivering slightly before turning to face me.

Her eyes closed in a brief moment of relief as she exhaled.

“I thought you left,”

she said quietly, and I chuckled.

“Aise kaise.

Apni patni ke haath ka swaadisht bhojan chhodkar bhala hum kyu jaayenge,”

(Why would I leave without having the delicious food cooked by my wife?) I said and sat down on the couch in front of the table.

“Join me.”

I gestured to her.

Inhaling deeply, she walked over and sat beside me.

The rich aroma of spices filled the room, making my mouth water.

“It already smells amazing,”

I said, smiling.

She gave a nervous smile.

“I’m really nervous.

You know, my mother caught me in the kitchen.”

I raised a brow, intrigued.

“Then what happened?”

She looked at me with widened eyes and voiced animatedly, “She almost caught me lying.

I told her I was cooking because I wanted to eat Gatta Curry.

And she immediately said, ‘But you don’t like Gatta Curry!’ I was so scared.

Then I tried to cover it up and said my taste has changed.

But she wasn’t buying it and star—”

Before she could finish, I shut her up by feeding her a big bite.

She gasped, narrowing her brows, then reluctantly began chewing.

Just as she swallowed and opened her mouth again, “, I don’t li—”

I fed her another bite, and she stared at me, half annoyed, half surprised, and chewed faster, determined to finish before I could silence her again.

I kept feeding her, bite after bite, until she gave up trying to finish the story.

“Aap bhi to khaaiye,”

(You also eat,) she suggested, while eating.

I nodded and said, “Let my little wife get some energy first.”

She smiled softly and rested her head on my shoulder, calm and content.

I kept feeding her and started eating, too—one bite for her, one for me.

We ate in silence, and honestly, I loved every moment of it.

The food was delicious, rich in flavour, and full of love.

“Should I tell you something?” I asked.

She looked at me and nodded. “Ji?”

I smiled and took the last bite, finishing everything she had cooked.

“You cook just like my mother,”

I said gently.

“The last time I ate something like this… was when my mother made it for me,”

Her eyes widened with surprise, but she didn’t speak for a moment.

She just stared at me quietly.

“Really?”

she finally whispered.

I nodded slowly.

“Thank you.

I feel like I’ve eaten something to my heart’s content.

After such a long time, I feel full—not just in my stomach,”

I said, taking her hands in mine.

“I don’t know how to say it, but it’s like… I’ve come home after a long journey,”

my voice turned by the end, emotions welling up.

She held my hands tightly, saying nothing, and rested her head against my shoulder again.

I didn’t know why, but it felt like peace.

Like the calm after a long storm—a storm that had destroyed everything in its path.

But now, finally, it was time to rebuild… from scratch.

And somehow, that no longer felt impossible.

Silence settled between us, but soothing.

After a while, she shifted and gently pulled away.

“Come to bed,”

she said, holding my wrist as she stood up.

I rinsed my hands in the bowl, dried them, and followed her to bed.

She slipped under the comforter and, patting the space beside her, said.

“Now you should also have a backache,”

she teased.

I chuckled and lay down beside her.

She wrapped her arms around me the moment I did, pulling me close.

I rested my head on her midriff and pressed my cheek against her warm skin.

My hands settled gently beside her waist, and I could feel her warmth soaking into me.

I closed my eyes as she gently ran her fingers through my hair, calming my restless mind with soft, slow strokes.

I didn’t even realise when I drifted off to sleep.

I stirred only when I felt her lightly shaking my shoulder. “…”

she whispered.

I inhaled deeply and shifted slightly over her chest. “,”

she said again, shaking me more urgently.

I didn’t want to wake up.

It felt too good and calming, like I had finally exhaled after holding my breath for years.

“aaa…”

Her voice now trembled, laced with worry.

And I slowly opened my eyes, still heavy with sleep, and looked at her.

She looked pale.

Her eyes were wide, her lips were trembling, and her cheeks flushed crimson.

Was my little wife feeling needy again?

I instinctively moved closer and placed my lips on hers, kissing her deeply, sucking her lower lip passionately, cupping her cheek in my hand.

But before I could even savour the moment, she shoved me with all her strength.

And I stumbled off the bed, landing with a loud thud on the floor, my legs tangled in the comforters.

“Jawai saa!!!”

Two voices reached my ears, and my eyes shot toward the door.

And there they were.

Her mother and grandmother, standing there frozen, wide-eyed, staring at me in absolute horror.

Noooo…

“Aap theek to hai?”

(Are you okay?) Her grandmother walked close to me, and believe me when I say that I never felt so embarrassed in my whole life.

I grabbed the comforter, yanked it over my face, and mumbled in sheer panic, “I’m not here… I’m not here…”

“Maasa, chaliye yahaan se,”

(Maasa, let’s get going,) I heard her mother whispering.

Her grandmother walked closer.

“Ruko, Abhi.

Humein jawai sa se mil to lene do,”

(Wait, Abhi.

Let me meet our son-in-law first.) My heart was racing like crazy.

I took a sharp breath and slowly lowered the comforter from my face.

My eyes immediately found Nandani.

Her cheeks were flushed deep red as she hid her face in embarrassment, looking like she wished she could vanish on the spot.

“Kuch kshan rukiye Daadisa,”

(Wait for some moments, Daadisa.) I managed to speak in a slow voice.

I wrapped myself in the comforter, hiding my half-naked body, and shuffled toward the couch.

Picking my kurta, I pulled it on quickly and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to compose myself.

Taking a deep breath, I walked to her and reached to touch her feet, but she quickly held my shoulders to stop me.

“Aree, aree! Jawai peir nahi choote,”

(No, no, Sons-in-law do not touch feet,) Yet she placed her hand on my head and said, “Sukhee bhava! Mahadev aapki har manokaamna poorn karein,”

(Be happy, may god fulfil all your wishes.)

I walked towards her mother, who had her face covered with a veil and was facing the other side.

“Ji, Pranaam,”

I greeted her in a serious tone.

“Kshma kijiyega, humein pata nahi tha ki aap aaye hain, anayatha hum Nandani ke kaksh mein nahi aate...

kal iski aswastha kuch theek nahi lag rahi thi to bas dekhne chale aaye,”

(Pardon us, We didn't know that you were here otherwise we wouldn’t have come to Nandani's chamber...

She seemed unwell yesterday, so we came to ask her about her health.) she explained.

I felt highly embarrassed and instantly said, “Please, I am just leaving.”

And before I could move, her grandmother chimed in with a cheerful voice, completely ignoring the awkward tension lingering in the air.

“No, no! Why should you leave? It’s Holi today—we won’t let you go without celebrating the festival!”

I gave a weak smile, still trying to gather myself, and glanced at Nandani.

She had quickly stood up from the bed and grabbed her dupatta, draping it over her head with fumbling hands.

“Daadisa, ye vyast hain.

Yahaan to ye keval humaara swasthya poochne aaye the,”

(Daadisa, he is busy with work back in our empire.

He came here to ask about my health,) she reasoned with shaky hands and an embarrassed voice.

Her grandmother immediately scolded her.

“Tum to chup hi raho, Nandani.

Jawai sa aaye aur tumne to bataya bhi nahi,”

(Hush you, Nandani.

You didn’t even tell us that he is here,)

Her mother intervened, “Maasa, chaliye yahaan se,”

(Maasa, let’s go from here), and she immediately turned to look at her.

“Tum Maa-beti ek jesi hi ho.

Humein to koi kuch batata hi nahi, hum apne jawai sa se baat nahi kar sakte kya?”

(You both are alike.

You don't tell me anything.

Can I not talk to my son-in-law?) She exclaimed, and I smiled.

Alright.

“Aaiye, Daadisa hum baith kar baat karte hai,”

(Come, Daadisa, let's sit and talk,) I said, and her face instantly lit up.

We both sat on the couch.

Although I was embarrassed to be caught like that, I had to behave well, and I looked at Nandani standing there.

“Tum bhi betho Nandani, aao”

(Come, Nandani, you sit as well), Daadisa said.

Timidly, she took steps toward us and quietly sat beside her grandmother, who now sat right between us.

Then, out of nowhere, her mother spoke up.

“Aap bethkar baatein kijiye, hum bhojan ka prabandh karte hai,”

(You all sit and talk, I’ll go see arrangements for breakfast,)

Her grandmother nodded and said, “Jao Jao, Abhi, aur Raj ko bhi kehna ki aaye hain,”

(Yes.

And, Abhi, let Raj know that has come.) She nodded and walked out of the chamber.

She looked at me and asked, “To kaisa hai sab Suryagarh mein?”

(How is everything in Suryagarh?) I smiled at her and nodded.

“Everything is good and slowly settling,”

I tried to speak calmly.

“Chalo accha hai.

Kal Nandani ka swasthya theek nahi tha to humein laga ki kahin koi shubh sanket to nahi…”

(Very well.

Yesterday, Nandani seemed sick, so I thought there might be some news…) She said with a soft smile, and my eyes widened with shock and nervousness.

I looked at Nandani's face, which got me so nervous.

I gulped and chuckled deeply, shaking my head.

“Abhi to Nandani bahut nasamajh or choti hain,”

(Nandani is too young and silly,) she laughed.

“Vo to hai lekin humaari Nandani bahut samajhdar bhi hai...

sabka bahut dhyan rakhti hai, sabse bahut prem karti hai,”

(That is true but our Nandani is very intelligent and thoughtful...

she takes care of everyone and loves everyone,) She spoke, and I smiled.

“Ji, that I know very well,”

Suddenly, she furrowed her brows, put her hand behind her back, and took something from under her.

“Ye kya chubb raha hai?”

(What is this poking me?)

She held the gold ornament in her hand, inspecting it with a sharp, unreadable gaze.

A wave of panic hit me.

I became incredibly timid and nervous.

My eyes practically popped out of their sockets as I stared at her, holding it.

Nandani looked just as terrified—her cheeks flushed a deep, furious red as she glanced anxiously at her.

“Aree Nandani, ye kya hai.

Ye kis prakaar ka Aabhooshan hai, bada sundar hai,?”

(What is this, Nandani? It is very beautiful.

What kind of ornament is this?)

This was it.

I wanted to run and vanish into thin air.

***