Chapter 31: Clandestine

Khushi

"When you look at me like that, it makes me think that you don't know that I'm in love with you."

Khushi fidgeted with her pallu as she stared at the back of her husband's head, wishing she could read his thoughts as easily as he seemed to read hers.

His hair is still too long.

In the front seats of Arnav-ji's car, the men talked softly of some negotiations that were not going to plan. She sat in the back with Jiji, who had long since abandoned her attempts at conversation and left Khushi alone with her thoughts.

He loves me.

He'd said it like it was obvious, as if she should've already known. And perhaps she had, somewhere deep inside.

It was there when he looked at her. It was there in his words … and in his touch.

Her body heated with the recollection, her pulse returning to its dhak-dhak tempo. She still felt drunk with his presence. Though fire no longer raced in her veins, she felt it would only take one look, one whispered word, one grazing touch, to make her as weak-kneed and needy as she'd been earlier. He'd left her overawed, bewitched by his masculinity, and it was only after he'd slid into the driver's seat of his car that she'd recovered enough to absorb what had happened.

Hai Devi Maiyya, I didn't say it back.

They'd been halfway down the corridor before she'd even processed what he'd said, and after that, there hadn't been a moment of privacy. It was not only his physicality that beguiled her. He, as a man, enthralled her. Arnav-ji was a mix of contradictions, at once both solemn and stubborn, steadfast and stormy, and more seductive than any man had a right to be. Their sensuous encounter had only amplified his magnetic effect on her.

He knows that I love him too. Doesn't he?

And if he didn't, what was the best way to tell him? A message on his phone? A whisper in his ear as she hugged him?

Should I decorate the poolside? Write it in jalebi?

Her thoughts chased one another until they stopped at a traffic light, when Arnav-ji tilted his head so he could see her in the side mirror. His smile was slow and sincere, his eyes bright and features relaxed in a way she hadn't seen for a long time.

I want him to be this happy all the time, Devi Maiyya.

Her heart soared as she grinned back at him. The butterflies in her tummy awoke when he winked. Then his attention was back on the road as the cars around them started moving. Her preoccupation lasted until they reached the reception hall. Arnav-ji parked his car smoothly into a space and turned in his seat to face her.

"I'll help you. Leave the gift."

Aakash Jija-ji opened Jiji's door and offered his hand as she slid out. Khushi prepared to do the same as Arnav-ji opened her door. But he didn't offer his hand. Instead, he lifted her out with his hands at her waist, his fingers skimming devilishly under her pallu. She held onto his shoulders as she slid down the length of his body before her shoes found the ground.

"Are you alright?" he murmured.

"Yes."

"About … earlier … are you … are you okay?"

"Y-yes."

He searched her eyes, "Sure? You're very quiet."

"It's not … it's not that," Khushi tried to pull away.

"Then what is it?"

"Can I tell you later? Jiji and Jija-ji are waiting."

Her husband pursed his lips, his eyes flicking to where his brother and her sister stood, absorbed in their own whispered conversation.

"Okay," he conceded. "Let's go."

Releasing her, Arnav-ji reached into the backseat for the large box she'd wrapped earlier in the day and locked the car. The four of them approached the gorgeously decorated hall, their conversation mostly centred around the food, and the anxiety Khushi had been carefully hiding from her husband came rushing back. They were greeted inside by a small group of people, all in varying shades of blue. The bride's family had carefully dressed in coordinating colours for every event.

"Welcome, welcome!"

"Namaste, Uncle-ji. Look, I brought him this time!" Khushi indicated to her husband.

The bride's father extended his hand, "Mr Raizada, welcome. It's an honour to have you here."

"You are so recently married yourself," the bride's mother joined them, "It's a wonder she attended the other functions alone."

Khushi jumped a little when she felt Arnav-ji's hand on her back.

"Work has kept me busy but Khushi told me about the other functions, " he said tightly.

This, of course, was a lie. They hadn't seen much of each other in the past week, a result of the chores she'd busied herself with and his longer and longer hours at work. All of it had left little time for conversation. They slept with him holding her hand or holding her tightly against himself but she hadn't known how to bridge the silence between them until he'd pulled her into his lap earlier. And then it hadn't seemed to matter.

When the gifts and small pleasantries were exchanged, it was time to join the rest of their family inside. Her husband guided her to their table, his hand still on her back, but he was distracted by the approach of another man before he could settle between herself and Di.

"Khushi-ji, you look stunning in that sari."

Jiji lowered herself into the seat between them, so Khushi leaned forward to reply, "Thank you, Di. That necklace is exquisite."

"This?" Di pressed a hand to the diamonds, "Chhote gifted me this for Raksha Bandhan a few years ago."

Khushi looked to the side to share a smile with her husband, only to find that he'd disappeared. Turning in her seat, she scanned the crowd with something akin to restlessness until she found him. Arnav-ji leaned against a wall with Aakash-ji, a glass of dark amber liquid in his hand. He was watching her. The molten caramel of his eyes kept her captive until Arnav-ji raised an eyebrow in question.

Khushi blinked, shook her head in reply, and attempted to follow her sister's conversation with Nani-ji. A glance confirmed that he was still watching. A pair of ladies stopped by the table, prompting a round of introductions and niceties. Another glance, another confirmation that his gaze hadn't wavered. A tremble went through her. And when she was seated again, her body now angled towards him, he was distracted by a short man with heavy eyebrows. They exchanged a handshake and some quick words before the elder gentleman wandered away. Arnav-ji blinked up at her. Her heart raced. Fighting a blush, she tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. When she looked up again, he and Jija-ji were moving towards them.

She thought he'd somehow detected her panic but soon realised that a man was now standing on stage, making ready to begin the formal part of the evening. Aakash-ji dropped into a chair on the other side of the table. Arnav-ji seated himself next to her, his arm draped casually across the back of her chair. He flashed her a smile before leaning across to speak to Di, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Shyam-ji's return to the table.

Khushi stiffened, mirroring her husband's sudden tension, as the man sat next to Aakash-ji.

"Where did you go?" Di pouted.

"I met someone I helped once," Shyam-ji simpered. "I thought it was polite to say hello."

"I would've liked to meet them."

He glanced at Khushi from across the table. She dropped her eyes, feeling nauseated, and realised she hadn't seen him except at mealtimes over the last week. And had somehow forgotten just how slimy his stare could be. She was grateful when Arnav-ji stroked his fingers across her shoulder to distract her. Shyam-ji glowered, his eyes flashing with undisguised jealousy as he focussed on the gesture.

"It's a shame," Shyam-ji curled his lip in contempt, "that Khushi-ji had to attend the other functions alone. Saale-Sahib, if it were my wife being introduced to our friends for the first time, I would've accompanied her every step of the way."

On the table, Arnav-ji curled his fingers into a fist. He leaned forward, making a small growly sound in his throat.

Di rose to her brother's defence, "That's not fair. Chhote was working very hard this week. And he's here now."

With the eyes of the family elsewhere, Khushi leaned towards her husband, "Arnav-ji, he's trying to provoke you."

He made no reply, though his jaw tightened. Nani-ji's voice filtered to them.

"Tell me, Anjali-bitiya, what use is all that work if it takes him away from his family? His wife?"

"Even so, Nani-ji," Shyam-ji agreed heartily. "Especially when the manner of their marriage was so … Oh, but what will I say about that? The people here have already said so much … haven't they, Khushi-ji?"

Arnav-ji, who had been in the process of pushing his chair backwards, froze.

"What have they said that we haven't already heard?" Mami-ji joined the conversation, "We had to hear it in our own house."

"Manorama …" Mama-ji sighed. "Is it necessary to …"

"Shyam-ji …Mami-ji …" Di's eyes darted around the table. "I thought we weren't going to …"

"Who said what?" Arnav-ji turned to Khushi, his voice dangerously low.

"N-nothing Arnav-ji, it's okay."

"What haven't you been telling me?"

Khushi looked around the table, where the rest of the family was studiously pretending they couldn't hear their conversation. Shyam-ji smirked in victory. Anger pulsed in her veins as she stood. Arnav-ji followed her outside into a garden area complete with a pretty white bridge that spanned a small pool of water.

"Khushi, what did they say?"

She stopped in the middle of the bridge, "He said it to provoke you. You're doing exactly what he wants."

He tore a hand through his hair, swearing, and then began to pace along the bridge. It was some time before he came to stand next to her.

"Were you planning to hide it from me?"

"No," she replied honestly. "I just didn't know how to tell you."

"I don't understand."

Khushi looked out across the water, "It was my idea to get married like this. Now, people say things about you. About us."

"Then we deal with it together, dammit."

A cool breeze rippled the water in the pool and ruffled her hair. Arnav-ji shucked off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders when she shivered. It was warm from his body and saturated with his masculine scent.

"Th-thank you."

His hands were gentle on her shoulders as he turned her to face him, "Is there something else you're not telling me?"

"No," she huddled closer.

For a brief moment, she entertained the idea of telling him just how much she loved him. How much she appreciated him, how much she'd come to respect and trust him. How glad she was that, however it'd happened, he was her husband.

Patience, Khushi. You've waited so long say it. Say it at home.

So she curled into him instead. He waited for a few minutes before speaking.

"Khushi. Should we go back?"

"Oh," she blushed. "Yes."

She shrugged out of his coat and held it out so he could slip his arms into it. Then she buttoned it for him, letting her fingers linger on the fabric for longer than necessary. The family of the groom was making a speech when they returned to the reception hall, Di and Jiji both shooting her questioning looks as she settled into her chair. A smile, a nod of reassurance, and Di's smile returned. Arnav-ji reached for her hand under the cover of the table and traced his thumb across her knuckles as the speeches droned.

When the formalities were over, and the newly wedded couple had retreated off the stage to eat, Aakash Jija-ji leaned forward.

"Would you ladies like to eat?"

It was quickly decided that she and Jiji would go with Nani-ji and Mami-ji and Mama-ji would follow with Di. Aakash-ji elected to accompany them but Arnav-ji stayed behind.

"Khushi, just bring me something small."

Aware of his dislike of oily and spicy foods, she filled a small plate of potatoes and puri for him. She set it in front of him before digging into her own.

"What's that?" he indicated with his fork.

"Biryani."

Without warning, he dipped the fork into her plate and took a mouthful. "It's nice," he pronounced.

She blushed, unused to the sort of public intimacy he seemed intent on. And though they were interrupted a few times by the curiosity of other guests, Khushi quickly decided that this was her favourite function of the entire wedding. Though she supposed that had more to do with her companion than anything else. When Aakash Jija-ji offered to get dessert for the table, Arnav-ji scraped back his chair to help. They returned with enough wedding cake for everyone and a plate of sweets to share. Khushi's heart swelled with emotion when her husband snatched up the sole jalebi and offered it to her.

It was when Nani-ji had moved to sit with a group of society ladies, and when Arnav-ji and Aakash-ji had been distracted by a tall man in a maroon sherwani, that it happened. Khushi claimed her sister's hand as the lights dimmed without warning. The music, which had until then been soft and cheerful, was silenced. Only to start up again with a well-known tune designed to flood the dance-floor.

And flood it did, within minutes if not seconds, with coloured lights strobing in time with the beat. Grinning, Khushi dragged her sister into the middle of the crowd. They shook, shimmied, spun, and she felt a brightness in her soul that she hadn't felt for weeks. Many minutes — or maybe hours — later, as she was singing off-key to a well-known song about betel-leaf, hips gyrating and hair flying, she smacked into a solid chest.

Oh.

Stilling instantly, she found his eyes in the semi-darkness. But her startled question died on her lips as he dipped his head.

"Dance?" his lips brushed her ear.

Arnav-ji didn't wait for an answer. Tugging her forward with his hands on her hips, he nudged her into a gentle sway. Khushi slid a hand up his chest and behind his neck, caressing his nape as his breath heated her cheek. Her heart thundered. He stroked his thumb across the skin just above her petticoat, a maddening caress that may have looked accidental but — judging from the way his eyes blazed as he looked down at her — wasn't. He slipped a finger in at her hip, one centimetre deep where her sari was tucked into the underskirt. Warmth bloomed in secret places, her body humming with remembered pleasure. Her husband's mouth tilted into a satisfied smile.

Then, in a swift move that left her breathless, he turned her around so her back was flush against his chest. She saw that Jiji and Jija-ji danced a few steps away. Recovering herself, Khushi bounced and swayed in her husband's embrace, his hands on her hips and his heat surrounding her. Arnav-ji didn't do much dancing despite Aakash-ji's best efforts, seeming content to hold her. But when she pointed this out to him — her lips brushing his ear as he bent to listen — he only smiled before urging her to dance.

Hours later, Khushi fought off exhaustion as she watched her husband cast away his jacket and waistcoat in their bedroom. She was on the bed, changed and washed and ready for sleep. Feeling as though she was witnessing something forbidden, she followed Arnav-ji's fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt after loosening and discarding his tie. Her breath stalled as he peeled apart the sides of the shirt to reveal the bronzed muscle that defined him. When he pulled the shirt out of his pants and continued to unbutton it, she swallowed to wet her parched throat.

She must have made a sound. He turned without warning, amusement slowly warning his eyes as he considered her.

"See something you like?"

As always, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who takes the time to read and to comment on Charade, especially HoneyInDaRock, Perditrix, candicane26, DMGFan-2b-not2b, curiousbookworm, and of course booknerdforlife21 for leaving such nice reviews :) And a huge shout out to the anonymous reviewer who named themselves "phati-sari fan". That was wild.