Chapter 8
— RITU —
Ritu’s breath began to swell for a whole different reason.
Her eyes rose, and met his. So close. Close enough for her to see that he had a mole just under his right eye.
A dot. A blip. Long, thick, wet lashes blinked, and it was hidden.
They rose, and it was back. Water dripped on her face and she squinted.
When Ritu glanced up again, he was clawing his hair back from his forehead — his wet hair that had dripped over her face. Had they come that close?
Something moved on her cheek. His thumb. She couldn’t breathe.
“Nilay.”
“Hmm.”
His lips fell open. Only a smidge. Inviting her eyes there.
Two perfect teeth peeped from between them.
He had the fullest lips for a man, hidden beneath that beard but now shining for her.
A beacon. Try as she might, she couldn’t look away from them.
His breaths, warm and deep, they came from between them.
His fingers moved from her cheek to her jaw, then under it, holding her face up. She was then forced to leave his lips and meet his eyes.
“You are my patient,” she warned, feeling rather than seeing how close they had come.
His face was now so close to hers, his nose touching the tip of hers.
Her mouth was wet, pooling, her heart thudding so loud she feared it would make his go faster.
Ritu splayed a hand on his chest, over his heart. It was just as fast.
“Relax,” she tried again, even though it wasn’t an alarming thud.
The intensity in his gaze only heightened. She had never seen that in him. It was like looking at a man, an entity that was completely different. One that was hidden from the world and only unravelled now for her. She knew it wasn't true. A lot of what she was feeling here, with him, wasn't true.
“I am your doctor, Nilay.”
“Dr. Shravan is my doctor.”
“That’s a technicality. I treat you.”
“Then I withdraw from your treatment,” he murmured and brought his mouth down on hers. Ritu gasped.
Rain. It seeped into her being, just as deeply as his tongue did.
And even though she didn’t know how to, hers seeped into his too.
This was so beautiful. This feeling was so precious.
His tongue swept through her mouth and his body pushed hers into something hard.
A pillar. She found herself floating. She had never felt as light as she did in this second.
With a slow savouring sound, he pulled back. And she gaped at him with half-hooded eyes. His were drugged too.
“You are not gay then?” She found herself utter.
And her eyes widened in horror. “I am so sorry… It’s none of my business and we can’t do this…
” she began to move away when his hands tenderly found the dips of her waist. His hands were so big that they almost met at her back.
Ritu tightened her stomach. She had a nipped waist, but her stomach wasn’t flat.
And even if she was going to make sure nothing happened between them, she needed him to feel the best of her.
“Ritu.”
Her scampering eyes turned up to his.
“I am not gay.”
She swallowed. “Right. Alright. Let’s go…” he caught her waist and pulled her back, holding her effortlessly against the pillar.
“You have another question.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“How do you know?”
“Your mouth came and whispered to mine.”
Ritu glared at him. And he smirked, that first-day obnoxious smirk. Why didn’t she feel like throwing a chair at that smirk today? Why did it look… endearing?
“You are bisexual?” She asked it, but it was a statement. Maya had given her a hint, the makeup artist had cemented it. Not that it was any of her concern. Whatever worked for him.
“Are you asking or informing?”
“Asking?”
His gaze dipped to her mouth. She tightened it too. And his eyes had that look again — intense. He wetted his lips.
“I am a straight man, running a business in a stereotyped industry.”
Ritu felt her eyes go soft.
“I have been called both those things, and more.”
“Maya said, you…”
“I never deny them.”
“Why?”
“It wouldn’t matter what I say, that’s just how most male designers in women’s couture are seen. What difference does it make to my life? If at all, they see me as a god of both men and women. An enigma is always good for business.”
“For the record, I don’t judge you for either.”
He smiled. “Good to know.”
She nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Ritu,” he held her steady by the waist again. It was so effortless for him to hold her and manoeuvre her. Not in a controlling way. In a stay-with-me way. Ritu snapped out of her head. Why was she suddenly thinking like Maya?
“What, Nilay?”
“Can I kiss you again?”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Is that a yes?” He thumbed her lower lip. Saliva pooled in her mouth.
“You are my patient.”
“I was your patient five minutes ago as well.”
“I…”
His face changed. Something stretched taut on it and his fingers began to loosen from her waist — “I’m sorry. If there is somebody else… I didn’t even stop to think there might be. I am so sorry…”
“There’s nobody.”
How did those words come to her mouth? Moreover, how did she utter them out loud? But it stopped his fingers from leaving her waist and everything inside her liked that. His fingers tightened, and something began to bloom.
“You don’t want to kiss me?” He asked.
“You don’t want to kiss me,” she scoffed. “It’s not what you think. I am not what you think. I am not… all this happy 5 Whats game. Ok?”
“Then tell me who you are.”
“For starters, I am the woman on whom none of those couture clothes of your standard fit. Even if they do, they don’t look good, as proven from our first meeting.”
His mouth pursed. And his fingers tightened even more if that was possible. They stared at each other. Silent. Breathing loudly, too loudly, even for the pelting rain roaring outside.
“What?!” She fought. “What now?”
“You said starters. I am waiting for the main course.”
“I am not here to joke. Move your hands now. We are done,” she began to push at his forearms. They didn’t budge. His fingers squeezed.
“Nilay, I am not joking anymore.”
“I am not either.”
“What do you fucking want?!”
“You.”
She laughed bitterly. “I am not that kind of a girl. We are in a village but you will find plenty when we return to Mumbai tomorrow…”
Her words were cut off as he silenced them with his mouth.
This time his hips pushed into her stomach and she felt it.
He wasn’t messing with her or play-acting or enjoying a stray moment.
The physical evidence was vividly apparent.
And instead of making her body lock up and freeze, for the first time, it made something in her feel free.
He moved, and she moved with him, the sounds between them turning indecent but still music to her ears.
Ritu ought to have panicked and left by this point.
She ought to have pushed him away and yell at him for something unreasonable and make a fool out of herself.
She ought to have been on her way to a safe place, crying and hating herself.
She ought to have been petrified of this moment.
But as his hips showed her how much he wanted her, stamped and sealed by his mouth, Ritu found her defences melting.
Maybe this was it. Her moment to break free. His mouth pulled back from over hers and she felt her lips like they were brand new — swollen, panting, drenched.
“Only tonight,” she found herself saying.
He stared at her, silent. A long second passed. Then he gave a nod.
“We forget it tomorrow.”
“It might be a little impossible for you,” he smirked.
And it made her mouth stretch. She wanted that.
For it to be impossible to forget him. Because a memory was about to be made.
A good moment was coming. She knew it was.
One that she had fought with for so long, through dark nights.
She would be a fool to forget it in the light of day.
“It is beyond my understanding how you can still be so obnoxious after behaving so nicely.”
“Let me show you.” He grabbed her hand and pulled back, taking her with him and into his arms, twirling with her squeals and dipping her with a kiss to her mouth.
“Want me to make it worse?” He asked, with her still dipped over his arm.
She couldn’t manage words through her thrilled laugh and he took that as her ascent.
“Nilay!” Ritu laughed incredulously as he brought her back, took her hand in a dancing pose and twirled the other way around, kept twirling, her hair flying out with them, her laughter loud, his grin louder. “Stop, stop, stop, stop!”
He finally brought them to a halt and pushed his face into the crook of her shoulder. “I have more levels to cross if you need,” he whispered there with a laugh and laid an open-mouthed kiss on her skin.
A car splashing through the rain broke them apart. Their town car, with their driver. Ritu immediately pushed back from him but he grabbed her waist before she could venture farther. “Where do you think you are going?”
“We… uhh… the car is here.”
“So?”
“So, behave yourself. The driver is watching. Oh my god! Did anybody see us? Oh my god, you kissed me in the middle of a village in a closed house!” She began to look around frantically at the deserted rainy road as he guided her down the steps and into the open door of the car.
He didn’t stop there. He pushed the bangs stuck to her cheek behind her ear before closing the door and walking around the car in the rain to get in from his side.
“Doctor?”
“Huh?”
“Come here.” He held his arm out.
“Shut up,” she pushed it off, making him break into a laugh. The driver was chuckling too.
————————————————————
The car glided through the atrium of the small haveli-turned-boutique hotel and the interiors of wet sandstone and drenched rose bushes greeted them.
Ritu had thought and thought incessantly about snapping out of this haze.
She had tried to tether herself before flying off into the wind as her body, her mind, her soul had felt lighter. She had failed.
Their drive had been silent, feeling heavy but not weighted. No gazes were exchanged, no words spoken. And yet, this space felt safe, positive, embracing. With him by her side, for the first time, this thought did not feel daunting.
And now they were here.
Her door was pulled open and that’s when Ritu realised that he had gotten off from his side already.
It was the gatekeeper holding her door open but the hand that pushed into her field of vision was a familiar one.
Long, carved fingers, broad palm, the one that had rested on her waist today more than it had on any surface.
She swallowed the ball of nerves and took it.
The gatekeepers, the guards, the receptionists — all were honed in on them.
Not two people damp from the rain. But Nilay Patel.
NiP. She was sure none of them knew who he was, but everybody knew he was worth staring at as he led her to the small lift installed in the ancient haveli-hotel, shielding her damp body with his own.
“Wait.” She circled his forearm to stop him.
“You can change your mind,” he intoned. “But let me take you up. You need to dry off.”
“No… I mean… we can’t do it tonight.”
“Why?”
“Your heart.”
His face paled.
“It’s not a hindrance. Not forever. It’s been five weeks now.”
“Then?”
“We haven’t run stamina or stress tests this week.”
“You are saying I need to submit a stress test to take you up with me tonight?” He cocked his head. “I ran with you through half of Sidhpur. I twirled with you. Don’t make me bring out the real obnoxious now.”
Her mouth twisted — “Go ahead.”
“I kissed you senseless and you were panting. Not me.”
Her mouth opened.
“Want me to demonstrate it again?”
She shoved at his chest.
“Careful,” he held his chest. “That part is broken.”
She bit back her smile. “Fine. One test. Stress test.”
“Ritu, don’t start…”
“If you can walk up two flights of stairs without strain, then.”
His brow cocked. “These stairs?”
“Yes.”
“You are sure?”
“Sure.”
“Take the lift,” he commanded, then turned and broke into a brisk sprint up the wide, high, stone stairs that were double the height of modern ones. Ritu went inside the open lift, butterflies beginning to burst like sparks inside of her.
————————————————————
The lift glided to the third floor and she pushed the grille open.
“Come here, Doctor.” A long arm snaked around her and she found herself hauled into his chest. Her first instinct was to check his pulse but she didn’t need to.
He wasn’t panting too hard. He had reached here before the slow lift had.
His face wasn’t strained. It was lit up.
Aglow. His wet hair was hanging over his forehead, again dripping over her.
This time, he did not claw it back but fused her mouth with his, letting more water drench her forehead.
And her arms wound themselves around his neck.
His body pushed her, pushed her, pushed her until a beep was heard and she was inside a room. His room. Panic from somewhere low inside her began to rear its ugly head.
“Do you trust me, Ritu?” Nilay’s mouth whispered over hers.
The panic intensified. Churned.
“I know I haven’t done anything to earn it,” he murmured. “But can you trust the next good moment that is about to come?”
Her eyes met his.
“Can you trust me?”
She blinked. And realised a lock of her hair was stuck to her eyelashes.
His thumb untangled it and pushed it off.
Then ghosted over her eyelashes to smooth them over.
And in that second of thoughtful tenderness, something ruffled long ago smoothened inside her.
His thumb trailed down the side of her face, to her cheek.
It circled there, and then his warm mouth pressed to the apple of her cheek. His nose came next and it stayed there.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” His voice murmured into her skin.
“For tonight.”
“For tonight.”
He stepped back from her.
Ritu popped her eyes open, just in time to see him reach for her shirt.
She did not think. She did not have to consciously stop thinking.
It switched off. And as he pulled her shirt off, as his eyes landed on her, softened, darkened, then intensified — Ritu left the panic, the fear, the sobs behind in the last moment as she was tugged into his arms, and into the next one.