Twelve
Anika
I made my way up the stairs to the first-floor bedroom, once I said goodnight to Smita Aunty.
The woman was a riot and so practical and motherly at the same time. She was the only one who’d helped me when I visited Vikrant’s home as a new bride. Explaining the traditions, teaching me the right way to make the fucking tea so it would please Vikrant’s parents.
Apparently, they didn’t add milk right away to the water and tea leaf powder, preferring to steep the tea in the water so it became thick brown sludge before they lightened it with milk.
To give the devil his due, Vikrant had run interference between his parents and me as much as he could. But even he had to attend phone calls or go to the freaking bathroom and his mother was strict about having her precious son help around the kitchen.
In that he wasn’t allowed inside, at all. It was not a man’s job to be in the kitchen.
Those were the times Vikrant’s mother had twisted in the knife about the many differences between my husband and me.
If you’d been from our community, you’d know how to do this already.
Vikrant should have chosen someone who understood us all better.
My son is a good doctor and a good son. You’re lucky to have him.
And I - insecure and under-confident anyway in family matters, considering the dysfunction between my own parents - had taken the woman’s words to heart. With the perspective of distance and the cloud of insecurity off my head, I could now see those unkind words for what they were.
An attempt to hold onto her son.
It was such an unoriginal story that I would have laughed if I hadn’t already cried so much over this man and this family.
***
Surprisingly, I had actually had fun today once I put Vikrant’s parents in their proper places in my head – which was at a respectful distance from my emotional heart – and focused on the tasks at hand.
I had a good eye for color, and I attended previous Chathurthi celebrations enough to know how the whole thing was conducted.
So, yeah, it was all fun.
It was even more fun to watch Vikrant be cutely domestic. He’d never shirked his duties when we were living together, and he had acquitted himself well today too. And, best of all, his mother said not a word when Vikrant helped in setting the table and clearing the dishes.
There was just that one disturbing moment when he’d helped me get off the ladder where I was sure, so sure, he would kiss the fuck out of me. Where he’d tell me fuck the divorce, I love you forever.
Then, his mom ruined the moment, and I came to my senses.
This was all a charade, an act, to keep his father stable. Nothing more.
All of the yearning and longing for love and happily ever after was on my part.
Vikrant wanted me, no two ways about it.
But… I wanted everything. I had it before and I was damned if I was going to settle for just lust…even if my hormones were sitting up and begging for him as they had been all day.
***
‘Ani,’ Vikrant appeared at the top of the stairs. He held my duffel bag in one hand and the stuff I had strewn on the bed was visible through the half-open zipper.
‘Yeah?’
He blushed. My ex-husband’s ears went red, and he had a flush under the healthy gold of his skin. Desire licked at my core and mocked my gritty resolve of moments before.
I physically resisted the urge to curl my hands into fists.
‘Ramesh Kaka and Smita Kaki are sleeping in here.’ He indicated the room I had occupied for her nap with a jerk of his head. ‘My parents are next to them.’
The words sank into my desire-hazed brain. ‘Oh.’ Then I processed them and, ‘ Oh.’ There were only two bedrooms on the upper floor. And two on the lower floor, next to the massive living room and kitchen. They were earmarked for the cousins, and I could not sleep in them anyway if we had to pretend to be happily married.
Conclusion: I had to share Vikrant’s suite with him on the top floor. And his bed…
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry. You don’t mind, do you?’
I winked. To cover up my turmoil. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get me into bed but you’re not, are you?’
God, I wished I didn’t sound as hopeful as I felt.
‘Haha. Very funny, Anika.’ He sounded sad, which made no sense.
I shook my head. ‘I’m an on-call doctor, remember? We can sleep pretty much everywhere.’
He looked visibly relieved, and we walked up the stairs to the third-floor bedroom.
***
I gasped in surprise as I took in the huge room, which covered half the floor in one large, flowing space.
It was gorgeous, done entirely in white with that same cerulean blue accent wall. The windows were covered with mosquito nets, the rain a pattering against the roof, with a balcony jutting out of the sliding doors. The furniture was simple wood, and it was so…pleasant…but also so lifeless.
There were no pictures here, no books even. The king-size bed was pristinely made, with a navy blue spread and matching pillows. Surely the price tag wasn’t hanging off the corner of the sheet? What? Did he never use the bed at all?
Then I spied a roomy couch. It sagged on one end and had a white pillow and bed sheet piled neatly on one side. A pile of books was stacked against the couch with Vikrant’s reading glasses and laptop flickering in the dark.
So, this was where he slept…
My heart twisted fiercely at the idea of him sharing this huge bed with anyone. But it hurt worse seeing the lonely pillow and sheet.
‘You can take the bed. I’m comfortable on the sofa.’ He stowed my stuff in the massive wooden cupboard which looked woefully under-utilized.
‘It’s a big bed, Vikrant. You don’t have to suffer on the sofa.’
He shrugged and didn’t answer.
I didn’t push the point and went to the cupboard to sort my stuff out in the cupboard. His clothes were neatly folded in one half of the cupboard while the roomier shelves, with hangers – such as those required for maxi and mini dresses – and a jewelry locker were all bare. Stunningly bare.
And kept meticulously clean. As if they were just awaiting occupation by someone.
I shot Vikrant a look from downcast lashes. He was getting the sofa ready for bed, tucking the sheet into the sides of the arms, and placing the pillow on the side he preferred, next to the stack of books.
Could he actually be waiting for me?
What a ridiculous idea…