Chapter 18
The smell of coffee reached her and nudged her awake. She blinked her eyes to ease the sting in them, and felt the weight of fatigue deep in her bones. Her room was soaked in the late morning light. She quickly freshened up, the pull of coffee luring her like a siren.
Dragging her fingers through the chaos of her hair, she padded out of the room in her silk shorts and camisole. She didn’t care about her presentation, just followed the rich scent of caffeine.
Abhay stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot, a dish towel slung casually over his shoulder. He was barefoot, dressed only in a faded grey t-shirt and trackpants. The coffee pot was still half-full on the counter.
‘You made coffee?’ she croaked.
Abhay glanced at her, then did a double take, scanning her in that unbothered, slightly amused way. ‘I did. I figured you might need it, seeing as you dragged yourself home in the middle of the night.’
‘More like early morning,’ she mumbled as she reached for her personal mug and filled it to the brim.
‘You’re very agreeable in the morning, huh,’ he observed with a smile as she took a seat on the kitchen table, and wrapped both hands around the steaming cup.
‘Don’t push your luck. I might still bite,’ she warned him, her voice gravelly from sleep.
‘It might be worth it. You look very cute when you’re homicidal.’
‘Careful, I might start believing you’re not afraid of me anymore,’ she took a long sip, wincing slightly as the hot coffee hit her throat.
‘I used to be,’ he said, then turned around and placed a plate full of fritters with spicy and sweet chutney. ‘Now, I know how this works, so I’m well prepared.’
‘Are you—wait. You made pakodas for me?’ she asked.
‘I did.’
‘Why?’ she asked, dumbfounded. No one had ever cooked for her before, except Meera. Her mother didn’t like cooking, and the chefs at Kashyap house cooked because it was their job to feed her.
‘You’ve been working yourself into the ground so I thought you could use a reason to smile,’ he explained, rubbing the back of his neck.
‘You’re a saint,’ she breathed out, then quickly jumped on the fritters. It was an explosion of taste in her mouth and she ate them in quick, savoury bites.
‘Is that all it takes? Pakodas?’ he watched her with a smile as he sipped coffee.
She shrugged, getting some mint chutney on her plate and said through a full mouth. ‘I’m a woman of simple pleasures.’
‘You know, my Dad swears pakodas are the reason my mom fell for him.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Seriously?’
Abhay nodded, taking a seat beside her. ‘He swears by it, says it was part of his master plan to woo her.’
Siya rested her cheek on her hand, intrigued. ‘I’m listening.’
‘They’d been friends since childhood. Dad was your classic flirt, never took anything seriously except cricket and video games. Mom was the opposite so she thought he was charming but didn’t believe he’d ever grow up.’
‘And?’ Siya prompted.
‘On her birthday, before they were supposed to start college, he told her there was a party for her at his place. She showed up, expecting the whole gang, but found just him. He’d cooked a complete three-course meal and baked her a lopsided, amateur birthday cake.
He said that if she wanted proof he could take them seriously, this was it. ’
‘That’s so romantic,’ she cooed.
‘Yeah well, they’ve never looked back ever since.’
‘Your parents sound happy. It must’ve been nice to grow up around that,’ she said, looking down at her mug, brushing the familiar chip in it.
‘I guess so. They always wanted a big family, but it was just me in the end. When Raghav and I hit the “tearing down the house” stage though, they started saying one kid was more than enough.’
The corner of her mouth twitched, amused by the image of him as a hell-raiser teenager. ‘You were that kind of kid?’
‘I was an absolute menace,’ Abhay said, proudly. ‘My mom loves to tell the story of the time I dismantled the toaster to figure out how it worked and then blamed our pet dog when it caught fire.’
She gave out a laugh and said, ‘You were lucky.’
‘What about you?’ he asked.
Her smile withered away. ‘My family was… different,’ she muttered.
It felt like she was staring into a black void and before she could fall into it, she abruptly stood. ‘I should go get ready. We’ve got back-to-back client calls and Shyamlal’s gemstone tests are still pending.’
‘We’re not going in today,’ he said smoothly, casually.
Siya blinked. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘That’s not funny, Abhay. There is a backlog the size of—’
‘And it’ll still be there waiting for us tomorrow. I’ve already got our legal team looking into Shyamlal’s background and assigned the PR brief for the day to the Delhi branch.’
She opened her mouth to argue, to reason, but didn’t see it coming until his hand slipped behind her neck and his lips found hers, effectively shutting her up. It was a demanding, all-consuming, heart-wrenching kiss and she melted in his arms.
When they broke apart, he let his thumb linger against her cheekbone. She was still chasing her breath, and his searing touch didn’t help. She simply looked at him, unable to remember what they were arguing about.
‘You have not kept your end of the deal, jaan,’ Abhay said.
‘What deal?’
‘The one we made before we got married of how you’d give me a chance to win you back, but you’re still running from me. So how about today, we rectify that?’
She wasn’t sure if it was the kiss or the plea in his eyes that left her feeling exposed, so she simply nodded.
Abhay chuckled and cupped her face. ‘If this is what it takes to make you agree with me, I could spend the rest of my life kissing you. But enough flirting for now, because you need to go get dressed.’
‘For what?’
‘I’m taking my wife out on a date.’
She was stunned. ‘You’re what?’
‘A date. You know, one of those things that people go on when they’re together?’
There was part of her that wanted to argue, to retreat back into the safe fortress of solitude, but the larger part of her was still reeling from his kiss, so she mumbled, ‘Okay.’
Abhay smiled like he’d won the lottery.
***
A few minutes later, Siya walked out of the lobby glass doors and found him leaning against his grey Lexus. He’d picked a casual look in jeans and a maroon t-shirt. His sunglasses were tucked into the open V of his tee.
Her flats clicked softly on the concrete pavement, the wind lifting the hem of her peach sundress. He kept his gaze fixed on her until she came to stand in front of him.
‘You’re staring,’ she told him, though she was doing the same.
‘You’re making it easy,’ he said, his eyes bright with mischief. ‘Those legs should be illegal.’
‘Flattery is not going to make me forget the fact that you haven’t told me where we’re going.’
Abhay grinned, pulling open the passenger door with a bow. ‘Come with me and find out.’
Siya slid into the seat, stealing glances at him as he rounded the hood and slipped behind the wheel.
When he placed his hand behind her seat as he rolled back out of his private parking lot, she felt a buzz of butterflies in her belly.
She felt the absurd need to lightly trace the veins on his arm and had to distract herself.
‘Where are we going?’ she repeated as the city rolled past her window, the flurry of Mumbai refusing to slow even for a minute.
His attention stayed on the road, one hand resting lazily on the wheel. ‘Somewhere familiar.’
‘Abhay,’ she warned.
He glanced at her. ‘We're going to the place we ran away to the night of the New Year’s party.’
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until the road turned and she caught the glimmer of sea in the distance, as he parked down the narrowed lane that she hadn’t driven down in years.
Versova beach.
‘You could’ve just said the beach,’ she said, as they got out and moved together across the uneven path.
‘And ruin the surprise? No way,’ he said, brushing his shoulder with hers.
In the afternoon, the beach was near-empty for once, except for a few children chasing a dog.
‘I can’t believe you remember about this place,’ she said softly, as the wind lifted her curly hair.
‘I remember every moment of that night, jaan,’ he replied, tangling her hand with his.
A little boy ran up to them with a toothy grin and asked if they wanted to eat chaat, gesturing toward a small stall. ‘My papa makes the best pani puri,’ he announced proudly.
‘Then, we’ll have to try it,’ Siya told the boy, tousled his hair affectionately, and told him to lead the way.
The tang of tamarind and spice hit her nose, and her mouth watered as he placed one pani puri on her plate. She popped the first crisp, overflowing puri into her mouth. It burst with cold, sharp and spicy flavour, and she groaned with a smile.
‘This is insanely tasty, bhaiya,’ she told the vendor and turned back to Abhay. ‘I haven’t had this in years,’ she said, wiping at the corner of her mouth.
‘I can imagine,’ Abhay said, offering her his handkerchief. ‘You forget to do things for herself.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘You don’t take enough rest, you skip meals, and you still use the same chipped mug even though you have a collection of better options. You don’t do things for yourself,’ he said, repeating it to hammer his point home.
It unsettled her how much he silently noticed about her.
‘Let’s sit,’ she said, trying to distract from the topic, and with a chuckle, he let her.
They carried extra chaat to a spot closer to the waves, and sat down on the beach. Her toes curled into the warm sand, and she let out a sigh of relief as she rolled her shoulders. With every passing minute, the knot of tension was melting out of her.
‘Why did you want to come here?’
‘I wanted to recreate a moment from the day we first met.’
She was moved by his thoughtful gesture. ‘Well, if you really wanted brownie points for recreating it, you should’ve arranged a full-on fair as well.’
‘Maybe, someday,’ he said, in such a serious way that it made her stomach tighten.