[73]
The haveli corridors were silent and dimly lit by wall sconces as Abhiraj walked back from the long village meeting.
His boots made soft, deliberate sounds on the marble, shoulders tense from hours of negotiations, but his mind was already elsewhere on his wife.
He remembered.
When she had pushed him off the bed mid-kiss.
The thud.he rubbed his back while remembering that pain.
His revenge had been brewing since then.
A naughty smile curved his lips.
He lightened his steps, almost tiptoeing toward their bedroom door like a predator playing innocent.
'Kisi ne ese dekh liya to kya sochega.sarpanch apne khud ke ghar me chor ki tarah jate hue.'
Pushed the door open quietly.
And froze.
The room looked like a storm had passed through.
Abhira's tiny frock lay crumpled near the bed.
Aviraj's shirt was thrown over the chair.
Aryan's pants dangled from the edge of the dresser.
Toys,cars, dolls, a stuffed tiger all things were scattered across the floor like casualties of war.
And on the bed...
Amisha lay in the center, fast asleep, hair spread across the pillow like dark silk.
Aviraj was on her right head on her arm, one leg thrown over her leg, hand resting possessively on her stomach.
Aryan mirrored him on her left head on her other arm, leg hooked over hers, hand on her waist.
And between Aryan and Amisha was little Abhira, curled like a kitten leg flung across Amisha's chest, tiny hand clutching her mother's neck, her own hair covering half of Amisha's face.
All four of them were tangled together in peaceful, deep sleep.
Abhiraj stood at the doorway, shocked for one heartbeat.
Then a low chuckle escaped him.
He quickly covered his mouth didn't wanted to wake them.
But the sight was too much.
'Ye teeno toh meri Amisha ka dam ghont ke maar hi denge.'
He shook his head, smile lingering.
Silently, he moved around the room like a shadow.
Picked up Abhira's frock, Aviraj's shirt, Aryan's pants folded them roughly and placed them in the bathroom hamper.
Gathered the toys cars, dolls, tiger dropped them one by one into the toy box in the corner.
Then turned back to the bed.
Looked at the pile.
His wife in the center.
His three children wrapped around her like vines.
He slowly walked closer.trying not to make any sound.
Tried to gently lift Abhira the smallest, easiest to move.
Failed miserably.
The moment he touched her, Abhira stuck to Amisha more tightly, murmured something in sleep "Mummy... ice cream...", and burrowed deeper into her mother's chest.
Abhiraj sighed.
Tried again.
This time Aryan-half-asleep-kicked out in reflex.
His small foot connected with Abhiraj's stomach.
Abhiraj stumbled back, hand on his abdomen.damage was little but the audacity was too much to kick.
Murmured under his breath.
"Late maar ta hai neend mein..."
Aviraj's sleepy voice came from the bed.
"Kya kar rahe ho Papa...
hum aaj yahin sone wale hain."
Before Abhiraj could respond, Aryan-still half-asleep-pointed behind him at the empty space on the bed.
"Papa... aap chahe toh yahan so sakte ho.warna bahar so jaea"
Abhiraj raised an eyebrow.
Aviraj-now fully awake and stubborn-clung tighter to Amisha.
"Hum aaj nahi jayenge Mummy ke paas hi rahenge."
Abhiraj narrowed his eyes.
"Beta... me tum logon ke liye kuchh bhi kar sakta hu...apni jaan dedu par par.
par tumhari Mummy toh meri hi rahegi.
Toh niklo ab."
Aviraj shook his head firmly.
"Hum toh nahi jayenge.
Jo karna hai woh kar lo."the attitude.
Abhiraj leaned in.
"Challenge?"
Aryan pruded sleepily.
"Haha... challenge!"
And just like that-the war started.
Sons vs Father.
The prize?
Amisha.
Their Mummy.
His wife.
They glared at each other-deadly serious.
But all in whispers.
Not to wake Abhira and Amisha.
Aviraj: "Hum jeet jayenge."
Aryan: "Haan... Mummy hamari hai."
Abhiraj smirked.
"Dekhte hain."
The deadly glare between father and sons stretched for one long, silent second-eyes locked, no one blinking, the air thick with challenge.
Then, in the next heartbeat, everything shifted.
Both brothers stood out of room for a moment, staring blankly at the now-closed door of their parents' room.
Abhira was in aviraj's hands sleeping peacefully.no trace of war and defeat.
Her head lolled against his shoulder, tiny hand still clutching his collar, soft breaths puffing against his neck.
Aryan holding his cushion which was touching on floor.night shorts slipping off one shoulder, hair a mess, eyes heavy and sleepy and then he slung cushion over his own shoulder like a sack of grain.
Mouths slightly open.
Eyes defeated.
They had been thrown out.
The war was over.
And the father had won.
Of course-baap toh baap hota hai.
Aviraj scratched the back of his head, exhaling slowly.
"Jyada dadagiri nahi karni chahiye thi..."
Aryan adjusted the cushion on his shoulder, voice small and sleepy.
"Haan... attitude zyada dikha diya.
Thoda request kiya hota toh sone dete.
Attitude kiya toh bahar nikal diya."
Aviraj looked down at Abhira still fast asleep in his arms, completely unaware of the defeat, then sighed.
Adjusted her weight carefully so she wouldn't wake.
"Come on..."
He started walking toward their room, Aryan trailing behind, cushion dragging slightly on the floor.
The corridor lights were dim, casting long shadows.
The two brothers-once so confident-now looked like soldiers returning from a lost battle.
Defeated.
But not broken.
Aviraj murmured as they walked.
"Kal phir try karenge..."
Aryan nodded sleepily.
"Haan... kal Mummy ko side se convince karenge."
They disappeared down the corridor, footsteps soft.
Behind the closed door, Abhiraj's low chuckle echoed faintly.
The king had reclaimed his queen.
For tonight, at least.
??
The bedroom door clicked shut behind the defeated trio-Aviraj carrying Abhira, Aryan dragging his cushion like a defeated soldier. The sound was soft, but final.
Inside, Abhiraj stood with his back to the door for a moment.
Then the laughter came.
Low at first-shoulders shaking-then deeper, richer, until he had to press a hand to his mouth to muffle it.
Of course he had won the war.
Baap toh baap hota hai.
He shook his head, still chuckling under his breath, the sound warm and triumphant in the quiet room.
He walked to the wardrobe, shrugging off his shirt and pants. Folded them neatly (habit), left them on the chair.
Now he wore only loose black lowers, bare-chested, muscles shifting under the low lamplight.
He moved to the bed.
Amisha lay in the middle-completely overtaken by her children earlier, but now alone.
Her saree was a mess: pallu twisted, pleats pulled loose, one side of the blouse slightly askew from Aryan's head on her chest, hair half-loose from Abhira's tiny hand clutching it.
Abhiraj smiled softly.
He sat on the edge of the bed, reached over gently.
Straightened her pallu first-careful fingers tucking it back over her shoulder.
Smoothed the pleats down her waist.
Adjusted the blouse strap that had slipped.
Covered her properly.
Then pulled the soft blanket up over both of them.
Slid in beside her.
Wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close until her body fit against his like puzzle pieces.
She sighed in sleep, instinctively turning toward him.
Her leg slid over his abdomen.
Her head found its usual place on his bicep, cheek pressed to his skin.
One of her hands came up-half-asleep-and rested flat on his chest, fingers curling slightly over his heart.
Exactly the way she always did.
He looked down at her-peaceful, beautiful, his.
Leaned close, lips brushing her ear in a whisper.
"Tum toh so gayi... mera revenge ka kya? Hmm?"
He kissed her cheek-soft, lingering.
"Kal nahi chhodunga.
Aaj so lo."
He pressed another kiss to her temple.
Then settled.
Pulled her even closer.
Her leg tightened over him.
Her hand stayed on his heart.
His arm locked around her waist.
The room was quiet again.
And two heartbeats-slow, steady, perfectly matched.
Abhiraj closed his eyes.
Smiled in the dark.
Tomorrow, he would take his revenge.
But tonight...
Tonight she was safe.
In his arms.
Where she belonged.