Chapter 22 #2
Seeing her eased, Kushal rolled onto his side, curling behind her. One arm slid around her waist, drawing her in until her back was flush against his chest. She could feel every part of him…the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body, the calm slowly seeping into his bones.
“We can’t do this, Kushal,” she murmured after a pause. Her voice betrayed the fight she was already losing. “You can’t just show up at midnight and…”
Her words trailed off when she suddenly heard his soft, even breathing. A faint snore.
She blinked.
He was asleep?
Just like that?
She turned her head slightly, only to feel his arm tighten instinctively around her. His face nuzzled into her neck, lips brushing the slope of her nape in the lightest, laziest way. Like home.
She exhaled shakily. What did all this mean? That her presence was the only balm that could put him to sleep? That her body was still his comfort zone, even when they were supposedly broken? She didn’t know. And she wasn’t ready to unpack it tonight.
She tried to shift to her side of the bed to create some distance, but the moment she did, his arm tugged her back without even waking, and his face burrowed deeper into her neck.
Damn! Her eyes fluttered shut.
One night…he had said.
Just one.
Fine.
Just this one night.
And with that surrender, she melted back into him… and again, like the nights in Dalhousie, sleep finally came to her too.
******************
Next Morning
Kushal stirred as the pale morning light filtered through the planks of the curtain. He blinked, adjusting to the dim glow, feeling more rested than he had recently. The reason lay curled against him, her breath warm against his neck, her hair a soft, silken mess across his shoulder.
Arundhati had shifted in the night, now facing him fully, her forehead nearly touching his jaw. His arm was still draped around her waist, and as usual, their bodies had moulded so tightly that there wasn’t room for even a whisper of air.
Kushal’s gaze trailed across her face, taking in the long lashes resting on her flushed cheeks and the faint pout of her parted lips.
His hand twitched slightly, recalling how last night, though his intentions were only to hold her, his fingers had strayed.
The satin of her nightdress had done little to hide the soft fullness of her breasts, her body fitting against his so perfectly that it had been torture not to do more.
His hands had wandered over her skin, her soft breasts, those firm buds beneath the satin she’d tried to hide.
He wasn’t sure if they were both too groggy to care, or if she’d been too tired to stop him.
He knew she would, though. The moment her eyes opened. The moment her ego kicked in…she was going to explode. Not just because of what happened, but because he’d shown up like that at her home, uninvited at midnight.
Still, he didn’t feel guilty. He never would. Nights like this, just the two of them, curled up together, meant everything to him now.
He leaned in and pressed a featherlight kiss to her lips…just a soft brush, but her lips parted slightly, as if responding, like they wanted more.
He would kiss her … again…full and raw…all heat and tongue, but only when she was wide awake and ready for more. For now, a gentle morning kiss would have to do.
With effort, he pulled himself away, brushing a final glance at her face before slipping into the bathroom.
The sound of the door closing made her eyes fly open.
Arundhati had been awake since the moment his lips grazed hers. Why hadn’t she stopped him? Why didn’t she feel anger…only desire and warmth? Her chest tightened with a mess of feelings she couldn’t name.
Deep down, she knew, she had slept well again last night. And the reason was him. But how could she allow him all this? That one question she had no answer to at the moment.
The bathroom door clicked open, and Kushal stepped out of the washroom, face freshly rinsed, droplets still clinging to his jaw.
She wondered idly if he’d used her face wash, probably yes.
He moved to the mirror, wearing his T-shirt again, then adjusting his night pants and raking a hand through his damp hair.
From the bed, Arundhati watched him in silence, her gaze tracing the line of his nape down to his back, lingering to the contours of his back, the way his nightwear clung to his strong b*tt. Gosh! This wasn’t helping.
That’s when he turned around, and their eyes met.
He didn’t seem surprised to see her awake. As if he knew she was watching him.
He crossed the space between them, fast but not rushed, and stood by the bed.
“I’m already late. I’ve got court today,” he murmured, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like nothing had changed. Like they were still a couple, still in love, still whole.
“I’ll see you at the office by afternoon.”
And just like that, he left the room.
She lay frozen, unable to speak, unable to stop him.
Her mind was spinning. What the hell just happened?
Did he really believe that because she hadn’t let him confront the past, he could just move forward like everything was fine?
That if she wasn’t ready to talk, they would simply… skip it all? Just pretend all was okay?
Because if that was his plan, she wasn’t sure whether to fight it or fall deeper into it.
And that terrified her most.
Suddenly, she heard a sharp scream from the living room.
“Didi!”
Arundhati’s eyes snapped open. That was her house help. She didn’t need to be told what had happened.
Heart racing, she flung the duvet aside and rushed out of the bedroom, pulling up the straps of her satin gown.
Kushal was in the living room, looking utterly unbothered as he searched for something…most likely his car keys.
The house help bolted toward Arundhati, wide-eyed and shaken. “Didi, who… who is he?” she stammered. “I used the extra keys to come in, and he was already here! Just walking around like this was his home!”
Before Arundhati could respond, Kushal spotted his car keys lying on the couch, exactly where he’d carelessly tossed them the night before when he had entered the house.
He picked them up and turned to the house help. “The house may not,” he said smoothly, “but your ‘didi’ belongs to me.”
Arundhati’s breath caught mid-inhale.
He didn’t stop there. No, Kushal wasn’t done playing with fire this morning. He turned to her now, that infuriatingly confident grin stretching across his face, and added with deliberate slowness, “Your didi is my wife.”
Then, as if he hadn’t just lit a match and tossed it into gasoline, he strode toward the door, opened it, and walked out, adding a casual ‘bye’, leaving stunned silence in his wake.
Her jaw still hung open. Did he seriously just say that? To her house help? With a straight face? The audacity. The sheer Kushal-ness of it.
He hadn’t lied, though. Not technically. He was still her husband. Yet, how dare he claim her like that?
And in all this, what burned hotter than embarrassment was the blush creeping up her neck.
Her house help was now staring at her like she’d just watched a movie play out in real life.
And with Kushal leaving in night clothes, the implication was pretty damn obvious.
That he had stayed over last night… in Arundhati’s bedroom.
Not something she would have ever thought, even in her dreams.
“Just bring me some hot coffee,” Arundhati said, brushing past her like nothing unusual had happened. “I’m leaving early today.”
The woman nodded, but the teasing smile on her face as she walked to the kitchen made Arundhati want to throw a cushion at someone.
She reached her bedroom and looked around, at her bed where they slept last night, at the dressing table where he was just dressing up to leave.
This apartment had always been hers alone.
A quiet, untouched space where his presence never reached.
But that too had changed now. This bedroom would never be the same again.
She would never be able to sleep on that bed without remembering the heat of his body beside hers, the way he had looked at her in the dark and how his hands had roamed over her soft curves, giving them a gentle squeeze here and there in his half-sleep mode.
She exhaled shakily and pressed her fingers to her forehead, as if she could rub the thoughts out. But they clung to her. Damn him. He always left like a storm…louder in absence than in presence. Even now, her lips were tingling from his morning kisses.
What was happening?