Chapter 18
Dalhousie Hotel
After the warmth of the couple’s dance around the bonfire faded into soft music and satisfied applause, the host returned to the centre of the garden.
“Now,” she announced, clapping her hands, “we’ve saved the most fun for last—our final couple’s game!”
She then announced the game, which was a crowd favourite among honeymooners and even long-married couples. It was playful, intimate, and demanded trust.
Laughter and cheers bubbled up from the crowd as she explained the rules: wives would blindfold their husbands and feed them a series of mystery foods.
They would be simple ingredients, nothing exotic, just everyday tastes.
The husbands had to guess what they were tasting, and if they got it right, they moved to the next round.
Get it wrong, and they were out. The last couple standing would win.
Arundhati stood with a silk blindfold in hand, staring at Kushal as they were guided to their spot.
He sat across from her on a chair, legs stretched out, looking entirely too smug under the string lights, but his eyes locked on hers.
She stepped toward him slowly, unsure why this felt oddly vulnerable.
As she raised the blindfold, he caught her wrist gently and murmured, “You know... this is the first time you’re going to feed me.”
She froze for a moment, realising he was right. In all their months of marriage, they had shared a home, a bed, a hundred meals, but not once had she fed him. Not even playfully.
She didn’t respond with words. Instead, she wrapped the blindfold gently around his eyes, and tied it behind his head.
Then she leaned in and whispered close to his ear, “We need to win. Focus.”
He swallowed, visibly. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Focus? How the hell was he supposed to focus when his Aru would be the one feeding him? When she was this close, this controlled, this achingly beautiful?
The first round began.
Around them, couples laughed and cheered. The organizers walked from table to table, handing little covered trays to the wives. Arundhati was given thin slices of something orange and crisp.
She picked one up and held it to his lips.
Kushal opened his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. The corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Carrot.”
“Correct,” said the host over the mic, and they moved to the second round along with eight other couples.
The second round moved faster.
This time, she was handed a spoonful of something thick and dark. She brought the spoon to his lips, careful not to spill.
He tasted it, winced slightly. “Tamarind paste.”
“Correct again!” the host declared. Another cheer went up.
By round three, the crowd had thinned. Only four couples remained. The atmosphere had changed. It wasn’t just a game now; it was a competition, and strangely… it was personal.
She received a small dish of creamy green mash. Arundhati recognized it immediately as mashed avocado. She offered it to Kushal. His lips brushed her fingers as he took it.
He paused, frowning slightly, almost forgetting the taste, but then he said, “Avocado.”
She exhaled with relief. “Correct.”
Final round.
Just one couple stood between them and victory.
Arundhati was excited. In years, she hadn’t let herself feel this kind of fun, this simple, bubbling joy.
The kind that made her forget about Delhi, about courtrooms, about everything…
even their divorce trials. In this tiny mountain town, among fairy lights and laughter, she felt happy and part of a completely different world altogether.
Kushal, on the other hand, was losing his grip.
With the blindfold over his eyes, his world had narrowed to one sense—her.
He could hear only her voice, feel only her presence.
The touch of her fingers as she fed him, the scent of her perfume lingering just inches from his skin.
Even the cheers and music faded behind the rush in his ears every time she leaned in.
The host announced the final round. Suddenly, she leaned in close again, and her breath ghosted against his cheek as she whispered, “We need to win. This is the last round. Use all that focus of yours, okay? Give that brilliant mind of yours something to chew on.”
He didn’t speak. He just nodded, jaw tight.
But inside, he was burning.
All he wanted…needed…was to pull her into his arms right there, to kiss her until she melted in his hold. To tell her that he was so close to losing his restraint.
The final round had begun.
A hush fell over the crowd. The host stood between them, smiling widely as she lifted the bell, ready to strike it and signal the start.
Arundhati had just been handed a small bowl. She peeled back the foil covering and immediately recognized the contents by scent and colour alone. Thick, glossy, and a deep chocolatey brown—Nutella.
This one should be easy.
All eyes turned to them.
Across from her, Kushal sat blindfolded, utterly still. Tense. Waiting.
The host rang the bell. “And… feed!”
Arundhati lifted a spoonful and gently brought it to his lips. Kushal opened his mouth without hesitation, trusting, though she could tell from the slight furrow of his brows that he was already unsure.
He chewed slowly, contemplatively.
Seconds stretched. The other couple’s husband at the far end of the table was also taking his time, his wife waiting as desperately as Arundhati to win the game.
Arundhati bit her lower lip, watching Kushal, her nerves fraying.
Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. “Chocolate sauce.”
Her groan was audible.
The host didn’t wait. “Oh no. That’s not the right one.”
Simultaneously, the other man raised his voice. “Nutella.”
The crowd erupted in cheers as the host declared them the winners. The newly married couple glowed with excitement. They hugged and kissed under the string lights like they were the only ones in the world.
Arundhati, meanwhile, pouted in disbelief.
She turned to Kushal, who had just pulled off his blindfold. His brows lifted innocently when he saw the look on her face.
“What?” he said, slightly amused. “How would I know? I’ve never had Nutella before, and it tasted like chocolate.”
She shot back, shoving him lightly before storming toward the drink tray. She picked up a glass of amber liquid and downed it in one go.
Kushal’s eyes widened. “Aru—wait—”
She coughed hard, choking slightly as the sharp liquor burned her throat. He was instantly at her side, pulling the glass from her hand and rubbing her back gently. “Easy… breathe.”
She jerked away from his touch, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “We were this close to winning,” she muttered. “Nutella, Kushal. Nutella? How do you not know that?”
“It’s just a game,” he said, trying to stay calm. “And I told you; I didn’t do it on purpose.”
But Arundhati had already turned on her heel and was walking swiftly back toward their suite, with irritation.
Unbelievable,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair and followed her.
******************
Back in her suite, Arundhati kicked the door open with more force than necessary and stormed in, feeling lightheaded.
Between the wine she’d had with Rajveer and Ananya earlier, and the fiery shot she’d recklessly downed after losing the game, her head was light, her balance just slightly off.
She reached the dresser, yanked off her earrings, and tossed them onto the marble top with a clatter. Kushal followed her inside the room, shutting the door behind him.
She didn’t have to turn to know it was him.
“You’re a sore loser,” he teased.
She spun around, fire in her eyes. “And what should I call someone who can’t tell the difference between chocolate sauce and Nutella?”
He raised a brow, amused. “Okay, look—first of all, I was blindfolded. There was a lot going on. People cheering, laughing… the host shouting, the pressure of the final round. I had one sense to rely on, and that one sense was being completely messed with because the person feeding me was you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean,” he said, stepping closer, “You know how distracting you are? Your voice, your touch, your perfume…how the hell was I supposed to focus on food with all that?”
She scoffed and turned away. “All excuses. We lost. I shouldn’t have trusted you to win. I was actually hopeful for once. I was so stupid.”
She whirled back toward him, defiantly. “Had I been the one blindfolded, I’d have guessed everything right.”
Kushal’s brows rose, intrigued. “Oh, really? That confident?”
“Completely.”
“Anyone can say that,” he countered. “Only the one who actually does it knows how hard it is.”
“Fine,” she snapped, then marched toward the bed and plopped herself at its edge. “Blindfold me. Bring on whatever you want. I’ll prove it.”
Kushal didn’t move at first. But the image of her, blindfolded, lips parted, waiting for his touch, his instructions, seared through him. It stirred something deep and primal in his gut.
“You’re overreacting,” he muttered. “It was a silly game. Someone wins; someone loses.”
She raised a perfectly arched brow. “What happened? Scared I’ll beat you at your own argument?”
And that did it. His ego hit!
Without a word, Kushal turned away, walked to her open wardrobe, and started looking for something.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Just held up a pale, silk scarf, letting it slide through his fingers before walking back to her slowly.
There was no laughter now. No teasing.
Just him. Just her. And the unspoken tension they both kept pretending they didn’t feel.
He stopped in front of her. She was still sitting at the edge of the bed.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice quieter now. Rougher.
The world spun just a little slower. But she nodded and closed her eyes. And just like that, the game turned into something else entirely.
Kushal brought the scarf to her eyes and gently secured the knot behind her head, cutting off her vision completely.