[63] INSECURITYS
The guests had finally left, the haveli quiet again except for the soft clink of servants clearing plates in the distance.
The family was scattered comfortably in the large living room-some on the sofas, some on the floor cushions, some standing and stretching.
Dadi dozed lightly in her armchair, shawl pulled up to her chin.
Minakshi Ma and Rajveer Papa sat together on one sofa, talking quietly about the day.
Mihir and Karishma shared a loveseat, her head on his shoulder.
Shatish and Shushila stood near the window, looking out at the moonlit courtyard.
Megha roamed around with her phone, showing everyone the photos she had taken of Aviraj.
Aviraj himself was asleep in the bassinet near the sofa, tiny chest rising and falling peacefully.
Amisha sat on the long sofa, legs tucked under her, shawl around her shoulders, staring at nothing.
Her mind was racing.
Dark thoughts.
She looked at Abhiraj (he was sitting relaxed on the opposite sofa, one arm along the backrest, talking casually to Shatish, laughing at something Mihir said).
He looked comfortable.
Happy.
Free.
And she felt... invisible.
The thoughts came unbidden, heavy and sharp.
When she had tried to tease him at dinner-pallu slipped, blouse open-he hadn't touched her.
He had covered her.
Adjusted her pallu.
Closed her clips.
Like she was a child who needed fixing.
Not a woman he desired.
After the baby... had she lost it?
The effect she had on him?
The way he used to look at her (hungry, possessive, unable to keep his hands off her).
It had been months.
Six months pregnant... then delivery... then recovery.
He hadn't touched her like that since.
Not once.
Pyaar nahi karte ab mujhse?
She stared at him.
He was laughing again, completely unaware.
Her chest tightened.
Anger rose (irrational, postpartum, deep).
He didn't even know what he had done wrong.
She had made theories in her head.
Fought with herself.
Decided he didn't want her anymore.
And now she was angry at him.
How would he know?
She hadn't said a word.
Just sat there, stewing.
Looking at him across the room (happy, relaxed, beautiful in his white kurta).
While she felt ugly, undesired, forgotten.
Her eyes burned.
She pulled the shawl tighter, turned her face away.
The family talked on.
No one noticed the storm brewing in the new mother's heart.
But Abhiraj glanced at her once.
Saw the tight line of her lips.
The way she wouldn't meet his eyes.
His smile faded.
He knew that look.
Something was wrong.
And he had no idea what.
Yet.
But he would find out.
Because even when she was angry for reasons he didn't understand,
she was still his world.
And he wasn't letting her sit in that darkness alone.
Amisha couldn't sit there any longer.
The voices of the family felt distant, like they were underwater.
She stood quietly, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and slipped out of the living room without a word.
Her steps were slow, almost dragging, as she walked down the dimly lit corridor.
Head down.
Deep in the storm of her thoughts.
"Woh ab mujhe waise nahi dekhte..."
"Main badal gayi hoon... woh bhi badal gaye hain..."
"Mujhe chhua tak nahi kabse..."
She stopped in the middle of the corridor.
Bit her thumbnail hard.
Then switched to her index finger.
Then middle finger.
Back to thumbnail.
Bite-release-bite again.
Her face scrunched up in concentration, cheeks puffed a little, like a sulky child trying to solve a very big, very unfair problem.
"Main hi overthinking kar rahi hoon... ya sach mein unhone interest kho diya?"
She started walking again, shawl trailing, biting her pinky nail now.
"Kal poochhungi... nahi nahi, kaise poochhun?"
She shook her hand as if the nail tasted bad, huffed, and kept pacing.
Funny little sight- the elegant new mother of the haveli, wrapped in a big shawl, waddling slightly, biting her nails like a worried schoolgirl waiting for exam results.
Abhiraj had noticed the moment she left.
He excused himself quietly, followed a few steps behind.
Stopped at the doorway.
Watched her.
His Amisha-pacing the corridor, shawl clutched tight, biting her nails like she used to do in childhood when she was nervous about a test.
His heart did that familiar squeeze.
"Yeh kya kar rahi hai meri pagli?"
A soft smile tugged at his lips.
"Nail biting... matlab kuch tension hai. Phir se purani aadat."
He watched her stop, lean against the wall, bite harder, face all scrunched up.
"Kitni cute lag rahi hai... bilkul pehle jaisi."
But the smile faded.
"Par aaj kyun?"
He knew her too well.
When she bit her nails like this, her mind was running wild.
Something was bothering her-deeply.
And he had no idea what.
But he would find out.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her pace and bite and huff.
"Jo bhi hai... main theek kar dunga."
Because even when she was overthinking and biting her nails in the middle of the night,
she was still his entire world.
And he wasn't letting her fight those thoughts alone.
He pushed off the doorframe.
Walked toward her quietly.
Time to bring his queen back from whatever darkness she was lost in.
Amisha walked slowly down the corridor, shawl pulled tight, head down, still lost in her spiralling thoughts.
Abhiraj followed quietly, concern growing with every step.
He caught up just as she reached the doorway to their bedroom.
She was shivering slightly (the corridor was cooler).
He stepped close behind her, wrapped his arms around her gently, pulled the shawl higher and tighter over her shoulders and chest (covering her more, protectively).
(He didn't know she wanted the opposite-she wanted to feel desired, not covered like something to hide.)
Amisha froze.
Then turned her head slowly, looked at him.
Eyes narrowed (sharp, angry).
He blinked, confused.His thought: Kuch galat kiya kya? Thand hai kaafi... isliye cover kar diya.
She turned away fully, anger flaring hotter.
Without a word, she walked into the living room, picked up sleeping Aviraj from the bassinet (cradling him carefully), and headed straight back to their bedroom.
Abhiraj followed, even more confused.
In the bedroom, she laid Aviraj gently in his safe spot on the bed (pillows around him like a nest).
Then she turned to the almirah, back to Abhiraj.
He stood in the doorway, watching her (totally lost).
She ignored him completely.
Opened the almirah, pulled out a soft gagra and kurti.
Changed right there (back turned, but in the room with him).
Slipped off the saree, blouse, everything.
Put on the loose gagra, then the kurti.
Her thought: Dekha... maine yahin saari change ki. Koi fark nahi pada.
She sat on the bed, started making a loose braid of her hair.
Abhiraj sat beside her, still confused.
Then he moved close.
His fingers went to the front buttons of her kurti.
Opened the top three slowly.
The fabric parted, showing the soft line of her breasts, the deep shadow between.
She froze.
Her thought: Me ese hi soch rahi thi...
Then he stopped.
Stood up.
Walked away.
She looked at him.
Whattt the heckk?
He had gone to the side were aviraj was, picked up the feeding pillow and a clean cloth.
She stared, confused and angry.
Her thought: Ab toh sar maar loon diwar pe mera... ya inka.
He came back with the pillow, placed it on her lap.
Then gently lifted sleeping Aviraj, settled him in her arms.
The baby stirred, eyes opening, looking straight at her chest (his food).
Amisha automatically adjusted her kurti, guided him to feed.
Aviraj latched on, eyes closing again in contentment.
While he drank, she looked up.
Abhiraj had changed into his night pants (loose, comfortable), shirt gone, bare-chested now.
He stood watching them (mother and son), eyes soft.
She looked at him (anger still there, but mixed with something else).
He didn't speak.
Just watched.
The room quiet except for the soft sounds of feeding.
Her thoughts swirled.
But for now, she held their son.
And let the milk flow.
The anger simmered.
But the love (confusing, complicated, deep) was still there.
Waiting for morning.