Chapter 35
Kushal’s Penthouse – Karwa Chauth Night
The moon shimmered high above the cityscape, casting a silver glow over the penthouse terrace. Kushal stood at the sliding glass door of the balcony, dressed in the deep maroon sherwani Arundhati had carefully picked and laid out for him while he showered.
She was busy setting everything for the Karwa Chauth puja…arranging the thali and lighting diyas while Kushal couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked like the perfect wife and was heartbreakingly beautiful.
She lit the diyas, her bangles tinkling softly in rhythm with her movements as her husband admired her from not very far.
“You look like a pro with all this,” he murmured from behind her.
She smiled without turning.
“Not a pro yet… my first time actually doing this. But I’ve grown up watching everyone in my family, my aunts, cousins doing Karwa Chauth for their partners… So, I guess it just comes naturally.”
He gently nodded, recalling last year by Karwa Chauth, everything between them had started falling apart. That was when the distance grew, the misunderstandings hardened, and she walked out. She hadn’t hence fasted for him nor he. But never again.
He pushed off the glass door and walked up behind her, circling his arms around her waist. His chest pressed against her back as his nose brushed against her neck, nuzzling the curve between her shoulder and collarbone.
“How much more time?” he murmured with impatience.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “We can start the puja,” she whispered.
He exhaled like a man given a reprieve, though what he wanted had nothing to do with food or water.
She turned around, facing him, and they began together. She offered water to the moon first, then turned and raised the chalni (sieve) to her face, looking at him through it…her husband, the man she had loved through heartbreak and healing, now standing there as if he’d never stopped being hers.
Kushal had that faint, wicked smile that always undid her. She looked down quickly, her cheeks flaming as she bent to touch his feet. But he caught her wrists midway and kissed her forehead instead.
He repeated the steps, offering water to the moon first and then lifting the kalash (glass) before bringing it to her lips. She sipped some and then offered him to break his fast too.
When he picked up a piece of sweet, she fed him first, and then allowed him to feed her the rest of it.
Kushal was completely mesmerised seeing his wife relishing that small bite of sweet, staying thirsty and hungry for him the entire day.
“You have no idea what it does to me… watching you fast for me like this.” He brushed his thumb over her lower lip deliberately, pulling her closer.
“And you have no idea what it does to me when you love me like this,” she whispered back.
“Love?” His smile deepened before he traced his thumb along her jaw. “I’m far past that, Aru. This is not just love anymore. It’s devotion.”
He put the chalni aside from her hand before cupping her face. “And I’m going to worship you for the rest of our lives,” he added.
Arundhati moved into his embrace, hugging him, as she murmured. His romantic one-liners were always the cherry on the top. Kushal pulled her tighter, pressing his lips on her forehead, silently promising her that he meant every word he just said.
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A while later
Despite his best intentions to order food and let her rest after an entire day of fasting, Arundhati had other plans.
She insisted on cooking a light dinner— simple dal, rice, his favourite crispy lady finger sabji, and rotis.
Kushal had argued at first, wanting to ease her from any more exhaustion, but how could he refuse when she said, “I’ll be quick. Please let me feed you tonight.”
That was it. He agreed, but with a condition.
“I’m helping,” he declared. “No arguments.”
Of course, his version of helping had very little to do with cooking.
Every time she moved in the kitchen, he found an excuse to touch her…his hand brushing her waist while reaching for the spice box, fingers grazing her wrist when she rolled the rotis, his body closing in behind hers as he stirred sabji in the pan.
She warned him softly to stop, telling him that they would never finish dinner if he kept doing that.
But he didn’t stop. He simply couldn’t and continued his ministrations.
The Kushal Nair she knew was always in control; today, he was desperate for his wife.
Every delay from her only heightened his desire.
She had tucked her saree pallu into her waist, leaving her midriff bare. When he leaned forward to check the bindi fry, he purposely brushed his palm over her navel, tracing her skin before tugging her pallu loose. She froze this time, the rolling pin slipping slightly from her other hand.
When she turned her head to glare at him, he pretended innocence and grinned.
Even while tasting the dal, his fingers pulled her hair loose from its bun, letting it fall over her shoulders.
She was about to protest when his lips found the exposed curve of her neck, where he placed a soft kiss, and another one on her shoulder blade.
“I love your hair like this,” he murmured against her skin before he moved away, carrying the bowls and plates to the dining table like nothing had happened.
The Dinner was too quiet. Every glance they exchanged over the table ignited the desire and tension between them all the more. When he fed her a bite, his thumb lingered against her lip. When she returned the gesture, he took her fingers into his mouth, licking them slowly and sinfully.
After the dinner, they cleaned the table together. But before he could pull her close again, his phone rang. Kushal stepped away to take it, his voice turning professional in an instant.
Fifteen minutes later, when he returned, she was at the sink, washing utensils. Still in her saree. Still glowing from that forbidden heat.
“Aru,” he groaned. “Leave it. We’ll do it tomorrow.”
“I don’t like leaving dirty dishes overnight.”
He exhaled sharply, walking up behind her. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
She chuckled. “Doing what?”
“This,” he said, gesturing at her, frustration and want colliding in his tone. “Here I am dying to have you in my arms, and you’re more interested in scrubbing utensils.”
She turned slightly towards him. “Even I was desperate last night, remember? But I waited patiently and didn’t complain, unlike you.”
She only meant to tease, but he clenched his jaw. “Fine. Finish it at your own pace.”
She almost held her laugh seeing his state as he turned and stalked toward the bedroom, muttering something under his breath. He knew she was only testing his patience, but if she didn’t stop this now, he didn’t know how he would hold on to his patience anymore.
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A few minutes later
Kushal stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of their bedroom, his shirt half undone, almost hanging loose against his sculpted chest. His gaze stayed fixed on the city skyline, though his mind was far from it.
That’s when he saw her reflection in the glass as she entered the room. Finally!
He didn’t turn.
Not even when she walked closer and curled her arms around his waist from behind.
“Naraaz ho? (Angry with me?)” Her cheek brushed the fabric of his shirt as she whispered, her fingers playing with his bare chest.
He didn’t reply. He just moved her arms away from his chest. She knew she’d really tested his patience enough. So she did what she knew would work. Rising on her toes, she bit his earlobe softly and teasingly. Kushal swallowed hard. Still, he didn’t give in.
As he began to step away, toward the bed, her hand shot out, gripping his forearm firmly.
He froze when she moved towards him again, pressing her front to his back, wrapping her arms around him once more. This time, her lips brushed his neck.
“Dessert?” she asked.
He groaned under his breath this time. He was seconds away from losing control. But he still turned around, wondering what exactly she wanted.
“Dessert? Now?”
She nodded. “You know how much I love having dessert after a wholesome meal,” she said with a pout. “And I don’t like eating alone.”
That pout was new. And that did it for him.
He knew her weakness for anything sweet.
It was one of the countless things he adored about her.
She wasn’t like the other women he’d known, forever counting calories and measuring bites.
And tonight, of all nights, their Karwa Chauth, he couldn’t bring himself to deny her a single thing she desired.
“Bring it then. I’ll eat,” he said flatly, though the spark in his eyes gave him away.
She tilted her head. “Close your eyes first.”
“Excuse me?” He arched a brow as she held up a small black silk scarf, the same one she sometimes used to tie her hair.
“You’ll have to guess it right,” she smiled.
Now that caught his interest. The challenge. He gave a half-laugh under his breath, realising she had probably planned all this. Purposely testing his patience, purposely delaying giving in to their desires. She definitely had something on her mind, and he couldn’t wait to know what that was.
He closed his eyes, without an argument, giving her a go-ahead. Arundhati covered his eyes with the scarf slowly.
“Trust me,” she whispered. “It’s your favourite dessert. You’ll love it.”
His smirk was his answer. Because whatever she had planned, he had now decided to play along.
Her fingers brushed his face as she tied the scarf snugly over his eyes, her eyes admiring his face with the same hunger and desire that he looked at her with. Her touch lingered a moment too long on his jawline before she pulled away.