[26] SURPRISE!
The food is all laid out, bowls steaming, the whole dining table glowing under the chandeliers.
I'm arranging the last water glasses when Abhiraj quietly takes the heavy kesar-doodh tray from my hands anyway.
I glare; he just smiles and sets it down.
Then we hear tyres on gravel, voices, laughter, car doors slamming.
We step outside.
Four cars roll in one after the other.
First: papa and maa.
Second: dadi with some other workers.
Third: Megha didi bouncing out, already talking nineteen to the dozen.
Fourth: Mihir, grinning, and then... Shatish.
Everyone is hugging, dusty, tired, happy.
Then the passenger door of Shatish's car opens.
A bride steps out.
Heavy maroon lehenga, gold jadau, dupatta pulled low over her face.
My stomach drops.
Shushila.
The same Shushila whose wedding the entire family had gone to attend.
Abhiraj's hand tightens around mine so hard it almost hurts.
Ma claps once, eyes shining brighter than the diyas.
"Shatish ki shaadi ho gayi!"
I choke on nothing.
"Mere bina...?"
Abhiraj's voice is a shocked whisper.
"Aise kaise ho gy...?"
Papa lifts a hand.
"Sab andar chalo pehle. Baitho. Phir puri baat bataate hain."
Everyone has settled on the and chair.
Plates are in front of them, but spoons are still.
Shushila sits beside Shatish, stiff as a statue, fingers crushing the edge of her dupatta.
Shatish stares at the floor like he's counting the threads in the carpet.
Rajveer Papa clears his throat.
"Ladke wale dahej ke liye pagal ho gaye the.
Shushila ke papa se zameen maangi, gaay-baans maangi, har baat pe apmaan kiya.
Jab mana kiya, baraat palat gayi.
Gaon mein baat fail gayi ki ladki ke naseeb mein shaadi nahi."
Minakshi Ma continues, calm but final.
"Shushila ke papa mere pati ke sabse purane dost hain.
Unki izzat ka sawaal tha.
Maine faisla kiya: humari bahu hum khud laayenge.
Aaj subah hi manglacharan, pheras, sab ho gaya."
Dead silence.
Shatish hasn't looked up once.
Shushila's eyes are red under the makeup, chin high, but her hands are shaking.
Everyone knows the history:
Shushila and Shatish have been at war since they were six.
Hair-pulling, name-calling, actual fist-fights.
She once pushed him into the village pond.
He once put frog eggs in her school bag.
She always won.
And now they are married.
Abhiraj leans to my ear, voice barely air:
"Ab toh ghar mein roz Ramayan aur Mahabharat dono chalegi."
I swallow hard, eyes fixed on the new bride who used to beat up her groom with a cricket bat.
Dinner is going to be very, very interesting tonight.
Everyone eats, but the mood is strange.
Plates are passed, praises are murmured for my rajma and kesar-doodh, but the laughter is careful.
Shatish takes three bites and pushes his plate away.
Shushila picks at one rotla, eyes on her lap the whole time.
Minakshi Ma keeps glancing at them like she's waiting for something to explode.
Finally, people start leaving for their rooms, tired from travel and the day's drama.
Megha and I take Shushila upstairs.
Shatish trails behind, hands in pockets, face blank.
We open the door to the guest room that has been quickly turned into their suhaag-kamal: red bedsheet, marigold garlands, diyas flickering.
Shushila steps in, looks around once, and just nods.
No smile, no thank you, nothing.
Megha tries softly, "Bhabhi, kapde change kar lo, thak gayi hogi..."
Shushila only murmurs, "Hmm."
We understand.
We don't push.
I squeeze her hand once, very gently.
She squeezes back, barely.
Then Megha and I slip out and close the door.
I'm barely two steps inside when Abhiraj's arms circle my waist from behind.
He pulls me flush against him, lips already at my ear.
"Woh log mana lenge apni suhaag-raat...
hum apni manaate hain. Chalo."
I laugh, half-scandalised.
"Aapko toh yahi soojhta hai hamesha!"
He turns me around, backs me slowly toward the bed, eyes dark.
"Haan... jaise hi tumko dekhta hoon, man karta hai saari utaar ke phenk doon."
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
"Aap bhi na... so jaiye."
He lifts me easily, lays me on the bed, climbs over me.
"Chalo, so jaate hain...
bas aaj needy mat ho jaana."
I bite my lip, pretending to be innocent.
"Main needy nahi hoti.
Aap hi mujhe bana dete ho."
He grins, slow and wicked, nose brushing mine.
"Jo bhi ho... main service mein haazir hoon, biwi."
I wrap my arms around his neck, voice dropping to a teasing whisper.
"Haan haan, meri need hogi toh bol dungi.
Warana aapki hothi khud kar lena."
He growls, low and hungry, and the diyas flicker as he leans down to prove exactly how much service he's ready to give.
Outside, the haveli is finally quiet.
Inside our room, the night has only just begun.
Only two diyas still burned, their flames low and steady, painting the room in warm amber.
Abhiraj knelt between Amisha's thighs wearing nothing but black cotton lowers, the button undone, zipper half-down, fabric clinging low on his hips.
Amisha lay beneath him in pale-pink lace: bra cups shoved beneath her breasts, matching panty pushed carelessly to one side, exposing her completely to his mouth.
Her legs were slung over his broad shoulders, trembling; her fingers knotted tight in his hair.
Soft, broken moans spilled from her throat with every slow swirl of his tongue.
He lifted his head just long enough to speak, voice husky and teasing.
"Aaj intercourse nahi karunga... tum thaki hui ho na?
Bas apna khana kha leta hoon."
Before she could protest, he lowered his mouth again, sucking gently, expertly, until her hips jerked and a shattered cry tore from her lips.
She came hard, back bowing off the bed, thighs clamping around his head, fingers pulling his hair almost painfully.
He let her ride it out, then crawled up her body with lazy satisfaction.
Settling his weight over her, he rested his chin in the soft valley between her breasts, looking up at her flushed, dazed face.
"Aaj main khud ko shaant kar lunga,"
he murmured, more promise than complaint.
His big hands slid the bra lower, freeing her breasts completely.
He took one nipple into his mouth-gentle now, almost tender-light sucks, soft licks, lazy circles of his tongue, more soothing than hungry.
He moved to the other, lavishing the same slow worship, while Amisha's fingers loosened in his hair, stroking sleepily.
Minutes later he tugged the heavy rajai over them both, cocooning them in warmth.
One arm locked around her waist, he settled again, lips closing softly around her left nipple once more-no longer teasing, just holding it warmly between his lips like a child with its favourite comfort.
His breathing deepened first, steady and even.
Amisha followed seconds later, fingers still threaded loosely through his hair.
The diyas flickered lower.
Outside, the haveli slept.
Inside, Abhiraj's head rested heavy on its new favourite pillow-her soft breast rising and falling beneath his cheek, her nipple still gently cradled in his mouth-and both of them drifted into quiet, sated sleep.