55. THE MECHANICS OF BALANCE
DIYA
The stable courtyard is bathed in the warm golden light of the late afternoon when I finally convince Veeraj to wheel out the Royal Enfield.
Ever since our first ride to the orchard canyon, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.
But today I don't want to sit behind him like a passenger.
I want to learn how to ride it myself. I want to understand the machine, to feel the engine beneath my hands, even if the sight of the heavy bike makes my stomach flutter a little.
Veeraj leans against the stone mounting block with his arms folded across his chest, watching me walk toward the motorcycle. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face.
His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his strong forearms, and the way he's looking at me makes my heart beat just a little faster before I even touch the handlebars.
"You're staring at that clutch as if it's a tax file you're determined to reject, Trouble," he says, his deep voice full of amusement.
He pushes himself off the wall and slowly walks toward me.
"Riding a bike like this is all about balance, not arguing with it." His smile grows wider. "Are you really here to learn . . . or are you just looking for another excuse to drag me back to the orchard?"
"I am completely serious, Kunwar Sa," I huff, placing my hands on my hips. "I run an NGO. I'm perfectly capable of learning how to ride a motorcycle without your royal commentary."
I glance down at my hands. The pale patches of vitiligo are fully visible in the sunlight now, but I don't even think about hiding them anymore. Not when he always looks at them like they're something beautiful.
"So . . . " I look back at him. "Show me where the ignition is before I start auditing your palace travel expenses."
A laugh escapes him. Before I can say anything else, he steps behind me. His body is so close that I can feel his warmth immediately.
He places his hands over mine on the handlebars, his palms covering my fingers as he gently adjusts my grip.
My breath catches.
I'm completely surrounded by him now, my back resting lightly against his chest. The familiar scent of his woodsmoke cologne fills my senses, making it very difficult to remember why I wanted to learn the bike in the first place.
He leans closer until his chin is almost brushing my shoulder.
"The ignition is right here," he murmurs near my ear, guiding my thumb toward the switch.
I press it.
The engine roars to life beneath us, the powerful vibration running through the bike and straight into my legs.
He keeps one hand over mine while the other gently steadies the handlebar.
"Good," he says softly.
"Now keep your left foot steady and release the clutch slowly." His voice is calm and patient. "If you rush it, the engine will stall."
Then his lips curve into another teasing smile.
"And if my student refuses to follow instructions . . . I may have to reward myself with a very public display of affection."
My face instantly heats up.
"Veeraj!" I gasp, tightening my grip on the handlebars. "There are three palace guards standing at the gate."
I shake my head, trying to ignore how close he is. "You are using a riding lesson to flirt with your own wife. Please focus on teaching me before I accidentally drive this thing into the fountain."
"My attention is exactly where it should be, my wife" he replies, his voice warm with laughter.
When I glare at him, he covers up, "My wife is learning something new. I'd say that's worth my complete focus." He gently helps me balance the weight of the Enfield as we slowly begin rolling across the courtyard.
"Easy," he says.
"Don't fight the bike."
"Let it move with you."
His hands remain steady over mine, guiding me without ever making me feel nervous. "I've got you."
Those three simple words settle something inside me.
The fear disappears.
We ride slowly across the packed earth, and I realize I'm smiling without even noticing.
His quiet laugh reaches my ears as he presses a soft kiss against the top of my head.
For a moment, I completely forget about the gears, the clutch, and every lesson he has been trying to teach me. Because as long as his hands are there to keep me steady . . . I know I'll never lose my balance.