24
The bright Sunday morning sunlight streamed through the large kitchen windows, catching the fragrant steam rising from the hot stove.
Adhira stood next to her mother-in-law, Savita, at the black granite counter.
Her hair was tied up in a loose, messy bun, and she wore a soft, sky-blue cotton suit.
She hummed a cheerful tune as she expertly flipped a massive, golden-brown dosa on the hot tava.
The rich, mouth-watering scent of clarified ghee, roasted spices, and fresh curry leaves filled the warm air.
"Take this batch out to the men, beta," Savitasmiled warmly, handing Adhira a large steel plate loaded with perfectly crisp dosas. "Shreyash must be starving. Ayan called me this morning. He said you both left the party quite early last night. Something about having an emergency?"
"We were just very eager to get home, Ma," Adhira replied smoothly, not missing a beat. A wicked, highly secretive smile curved her lips as she picked up the plate and a smaller bowl of fresh, green coconut chutney.
She walked out of the kitchen and into the bright dining room.
Shreyash's father was sitting at the head of the long table, deeply engrossed in flipping through the Sunday newspaper.
Rohan, Shreyash's younger brother, was already seated across the table, loudly scraping his fork against his plate in anticipation.
And then there was Shreyash.
He sat completely stiffly between them, looking like a man facing a firing squad.
He was wearing a crisp, formal, high-collared white dress shirt.
On a casual Sunday morning. At home. The shirt was buttoned entirely up to his Adam's apple, effectively choking him.
He was sweating profusely, a fine sheen of moisture on his forehead, despite the cool, pleasant Bangalore morning breeze blowing through the open balcony window.
He had spent the entire night staring at the bedroom ceiling, hyperventilating every single time he remembered the suffocating heat of the car, the agonizing tease of her lips, and the searing bite of his wife's teeth against his throat.
"Hot dosas," Adhira announced cheerfully, breaking his internal panic.
She walked up behind his chair and leaned over his broad shoulder to serve him. As she did, she deliberately pressed the soft weight of her chest against his rigid arm.
Shreyash's breath hitched audibly. He swallowed a lump, his dark eyes staring rigidly, unblinking, at the center of his empty steel plate.
"Thank you," he mumbled, his voice incredibly strained and an octave lower than usual.
He reached across the wide table with his right arm to grab the large bowl of sambar.
He was trying to be normal. He was trying to act casually.
But as his arm extended forward, the fabric of his shirt shifted.
The rigid white collar snagged against the sharp line of his collarbone and pulled down. Just a fraction of an inch.
It was enough.
"Whoa, Bhai!" Rohan practically shouted, dropping his heavy steel spoon onto his plate with a deafening, ringing clatter.
He leaned across the table, pointing an accusing finger directly at Shreyash's exposed neck.
"What the hell happened to you?! Did you get attacked by a bat in the parking lot or something? That is a massive bruise!"
The entire dining table froze.
Shreyash's father slowly lowered the Sunday newspaper, pulling it down to his chest. He deliberately adjusted his reading glasses, peering over the metal rims with narrowed eyes.
Savita, who had just walked into the room carrying a steaming pot of South Indian filter coffee, stopped dead in her tracks in the doorway.
Right there, peeking out from the pristine, crisp white cotton of Shreyash's collar, was a dark, perfectly teeth shaped bite surrounded by a hickey.
Shreyash felt like he stopped breathing entirely.
He just wanted the world to swallow him donw.
The terrifying, explosive scarlet color that Adhira loved so much immediately erupted from beneath his collar, completely overtaking his face and burning straight to the tips of his ears and the roots of his dark hair.
"It's... it's a mosquito bite," Shreyash choked out. His voice cracked mid-sentence, turning into a panicked, high-pitched squeak that sounded nothing like him.
His father stared at him for three long, agonizing seconds. Then, he cleared his throat loudly. A slow, incredibly amused smirk appeared beneath his thick mustache.
"A mosquito, Shreyash?" his father asked, his tone dry as dust. "In all my sixty years living here, I have never once seen an insect with human dentition. A very specific, highly localized, and very passionate breed of mosquito, it seems."
Rohan burst out laughing, slamming his hand on the table.
He was completely oblivious to the heavy, sensual weight of the joke, but he absolutely loved his older brother's profound misery.
"Bhai, what kind of mutated mosquitoes are flying around your car?
That thing looks like someone literally tried to eat you alive! "
Savitahurriedly pressed a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent, uncontrollable laughter.
She shot a knowing, highly entertained glance toward Adhira.
Adhira was standing right beside Shreyash's chair, holding the dosa serving spoon, the absolute picture of perfect, demure, wifely innocence.
"Well," Savitasaid, recovering slightly, her voice dripping with maternal teasing as she walked forward to pour the coffee.
"Adhira, beta. You must make sure you give him a large glass of hot turmeric milk tonight.
The 'mosquitoes' in this city are clearly getting very, very bold.
We wouldn't want him catching a fever from all that... exposure."
"Of course, Ma," Adhira chimed sweetly, batting her eyelashes. She leaned down, picking up the chutney bowl. "I'll take very good care of him tonight."
Shreyash looked like he desperately wanted the polished wooden floorboards to open up and swallow him whole.
While his father chuckled softly behind the raised newspaper, his mother hummed in amusement from the kitchen door, and his brother continued to make obnoxious, high-pitched buzzing noises across the table, Shreyash methodically ate a piece of his dosa.
Adhira served him another hot dosa, letting her cool fingers deliberately, slowly trail over his tense shoulder.
"Eat up, Senior," she whispered right next to his burning, red ear, her voice dropping into a low, teasing purr that only he could hear over the sound of Rohan's fake buzzing. "You're going to need all your strength for later."