Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
DHRITHI
Dhrithi moaned, a needy gasp of sound that echoed in the quiet of the bedroom. It had been forever….forever since she’d been touched with care, with gentleness, with affection. Her body opened to his caress like a flower unfurling at the first drop of rain.
His lips left hers to trail gentle kisses along her jaw and down her neck, reaching the sensitive skin near her collarbone. Her hands clenched in his hair, holding him closer to her even as her body arched in silent invitation. He accepted with alacrity, his hot mouth coming back to hers, plundering, savaging, and taking until she felt like she’d have nothing left to give. All she had was his, had always been his. She was finally able to offer it to him.
“Amay,” she panted, her hands stroking him in frantic motions, her body demanding more from the moment.
He caught one fluttering hand with his and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss. He bent to press his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, a shuddering breath sawing out of him.
“Amay, I-“
But whatever she was going to say, it was lost in the jarring sound of her phone ringing. They stared at each other, the enormity of their lapse in judgement seeming to balloon with each ring of her phone.
He squeezed his eyes tight before pushing away from her. “You should take that,” he said, unable to, it seemed, look at her.
Dhrithi glanced at the phone and saw it was her father-in-law calling. Ex-father-in-law she reminded herself. She tossed the phone aside and reached for Amay. Her hand only grasped air as he stood in one lithe movement. Before she could say anything, he was gone, striding out of the bedroom door without a backward glance.
Her fingers went to her still tingling lips. What had she done? What the hell had she done? Had she lost the only man who still cared about her with that one impulsive act? The thought filled her with dread.
The phone went silent before starting up again. Frustrated, confused and lost, she picked it up and answered.
“Namaste Papa.” No matter how cold her rage, she was still unable to completely shrug off the etiquette drilled into her since she was a child.
“We are having a puja for Varun’s soul tomorrow. Come at ten thirty in the morning.”
Shock rendered her speechless for a moment. They hadn’t waited for her to get well enough to attend the funeral but this they wanted her to attend?
“Papa-“
“Don’t argue Dhrithi.” He cut her off. “Ma said to tell you to dress appropriately.”
“I always dress appropriately,” she defended automatically, her mind scrambling to keep up.
“You know what I mean. The white saree and all.”
“Oh!” Defiance rose like a tidal wave in her chest. “So, no red lipstick then?”
She could almost feel the frost seeping down the airwaves as Varun’s father allowed his silence to speak for him.
“I never understood why he wanted to marry you. But we indulged his whim like we always did. We thought, hopefully, the second time round he would choose better or allow us to choose a wife for him. But no. First, you couldn’t give our family an heir and then you took the only heir we already had.”
She fell silent, her emotions battling each other, raging but unvoiced. So, they had known, just as she’d suspected.
“We will have the puja at Varun’s home.”
Varun’s home.
It had always been only his home, she reflected, even when she’d lived there. So, what did it matter what he called it?
Another thought occurred to her as she asked cautiously, “What time did you say?”
“Ten thirty,” he replied brusquely. “Be there.”
“And if I don’t come?”
“Don’t test me, Dhrithi.” The words were flat, toneless. “Varun was my son. If you thought he was hard to live with, you have no idea how far I will go.”
The line went dead before she could respond. She sat there for a while, the phone in her hand, her mind ticking, a million thoughts rumbling through her head.
Tomorrow. Ten thirty.
She got up from the bed in a rush walking down the short hallway to where she knew Amay’s bedroom was. She’d never been inside it, or even close to it, so far but she didn’t let that stop her.
With a perfunctory knock, she shoved the door open and entered. “Amay-“
Whatever she’d been about to say, the words evaporated from the top of her head at the sight that met her eyes. Amay sat at the edge of his bed, bare chested and in boxers, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared sightlessly at the wall in front of him.
He turned slowly to look at her, his eyes desolate in a way that tore a new rip through her already shredded heart. Had she done that? Was she the reason for the bleakness that hung around him like a shroud?
“Amay?” Her tentative whisper had him snapping out of whatever had him in its grip. He got to his feet, all those beautiful muscles flexing for her in a symphony that made her swallow hard.
“Did you need something?” he asked, his gaze sharpening as he took in her dishevelled state. “Are you feeling unwell?”
“No. I just-“ She held her phone up in midair like she was presenting evidence. “I got a call from Varun’s father. They’re having a puja for his soul tomorrow.”
Amay’s eyebrows winged up. “Not sure the devil listens to prayers,” he murmured.
Dhrithi snorted, a strangled laugh escaping her. “Tomorrow, Amay. They want me to be present wearing a widow’s get up. The whole white saree, no makeup, no jewellery deal.”
Rage flashed in his eyes as he listened to her. “You don’t have to go.”
“Oh, but I want to go.”
Amay stilled, something that looked a lot like resignation flitting across his face. “Of course,” he said tiredly, wiping a hand across his face. “Of course you do. He was your husband, after all.”
“No. No! Listen to me idiot.” Dhrithi marched over to cup his face with her palms and to turn it to face her. “The police are meant to be searching that house tomorrow. They’re going to be having this puja in the middle of it and they’ve demanded my presence as the grieving widow there. Think for a moment. Why would they want me there now when they haven’t wanted me near any of Varun’s last rites? Why do they want to have it in that house and not at their own?”
She saw his brain put it together, the pieces of the jigsaw slotting themselves together. “They knew what he was up to,” he muttered.
“They did,” she confirmed. “I’m the sympathy vote they’re hoping to play. And me being there tells the cops that I didn’t believe Varun was trying to murder me.”
“Which you don’t,” he pointed out.
“He would have killed me,” she said matter of factly. “One day or the other, intentionally or otherwise he would have. I just don’t believe he meant to do so that day.”
A shudder ripped through him, and he reached for her, pulling her close. She went willingly, her face resting against the warm wall of muscle. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Don’t,” he said huskily. “Don’t go there, even in your head.”
“It would have been a relief,” she confessed. “I would have preferred it to living with him. I just didn’t have the guts to do it myself. I thought about it though…several times.”
“Never again,” Amay said hoarsely, his arms tightening around her. “You’re never going down that road again.”
“No,” she nodded, her cheek rubbing against his chest. “I’m not.” She planted a soft kiss to his pectoral. “I won’t. I promise. But I am going to the puja tomorrow.” She tilted her head back and met his eyes. “I’m going to be there, in place and ready, for when the police arrive. My in-laws think they’ve scripted my presence to suit their purpose. I think we should show them otherwise.”
A slow smile split his face as he looked down at her. “What in the world are you planning, Trouble?”
“I have a plan. I thought we could refine it together. All of us, your friends too.”
Amay nodded. “I’ll call them.”
“This ends now, right?” Dhrithi said, a tremulous smile lighting up her face.
He caressed her face, one gentle finger tracing her jawline. “It does.”
“And then, maybe we could have our beginning?”
His finger trembled against her chin before he slowly grasped it and bent to kiss her. Deep, soft and voluptuous, the kiss was a promise, a vow sworn in the pain of the past and a hope for a future.
“Trouble with a capital T,” he murmured, swallowing her moan before pulling away. He was breathing hard as he stepped away from her.
“I’ll call the guys.”
Dhrithi nodded, struggling to steady her own breathing. “I’ll be waiting.”
She watched Amay walk out of the bedroom, her gaze clinging to him till the end. For this man, she would always be waiting.