The
next morning, Raman woke with an ache in his head and the disgusting
taste of old socks in his mouth. It was not an unfamiliar condition, but
he was annoyed to be waking up with a hangover again after such a nice
long stretch of healthy and responsible sobriety.
Kya
beta, we're too old for this, didn't we decide that, he told
himself as he yawned widely and sat up to stretch his arms.
The blanket shifted as he moved, and only then did Raman notice the person sharing the bed with him.
The
unexpected sight of a woman sleeping on her stomach, and the strange
surroundings of the room that wasn't his bedroom at home, sent Raman
into wild panic for a moment. In his nasha last night, had he done
something unforgivably stupid?
But
then he recognized the pert nose and wide mouth under the mass of curly
hair, and his panic turned into a different, slow-burning kind of
anxiety as he realized that it was in fact his wife in bed with him.
Ishita
turned onto her side, and Raman saw that she was wearing his blue dress
shirt from last night, only half buttoned from the top. There was a
dark purple bruise at the crook of her neck, and her always full lips
seemed to be extra swollen.
Those weren't unfamiliar signs either, although it was the first time he was observing Ishita in this condition.
The
first time she's ever been in this condition, his mind
whispered to him, and the full weight of what they had shared the
previous night suddenly rushed through him.
Oh
God, what have I done? Raman ran a hand across his face and into
his hair. He became aware of an odd stinging across his back, and after
running his fingers along the sore spots he realized that Ishita's nails
had dug into his skin and left marks.
Jhansi ki Rani toh saach mein sherni nikhli, he thought, eyeing her in wonder for a moment.
But
then he caught sight of her sari crumpled on the floor, her blouse
lying at end of the bed, and her white flower gajra tossed carelessly on
the nightstand.
The
details of their night started to come back to him, and he felt a hot
wave of shame course through him as he realized he had essentially
bullied his wife into bed. He remembered forcing a choice on her,
telling her "If you want to stay as Ruhi's mother, then you have to
be my wife, too. In all ways. In everything."
Idiot, he mentally berated himself. Kya zaroorat thi, aise dhamki dene ko?
He'd
been so lost in his blind jealousy and needless anger, he hadn't
thought twice about what he'd been saying. In that moment he'd only
cared about what he wanted, what his heart was yearning for and what his
blood had been demanding for weeks - claiming Ishita as his.
He'd
forgotten about everything else. Forgotten that Ruhi was his life, that
he could never, ever take her Ishima away from her. Forgotten that
Ishita had never given him real cause to doubt her. Forgotten that
taking a woman out of anger while drunk could only lead to tears.
Well,
for that at least he might be spared. Ishita didn't look as if she'd
been crying. In fact she had a rather dopey smile on her face as she
slept, and Raman absently wondered if she always looked that silly and
he'd just never been close enough to notice.
He
closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself before waking
her. He hated to admit it, but to himself at least he could be honest -
he was nervous about how she'd react. He remembered that she'd
ultimately been willing last night, that she'd even started to
reciprocate when she could, but that didn't mean that she would still be
ok with what had happened now that it was morning.
She
would have every right to be angry with him, to be disgusted by him. He
could only hope that she wouldn't somehow be afraid of him, too.
The
awful thought occurred to him that he might have actually hurt her last
night. He'd been in no condition to be considerate of her virginity.
Had he been too rough? He remembered touching her everywhere, exploring
her and tasting her and reveling in the bliss of finally having
her...but the long moments blurred together, and it was possible that he
was forgetting anything that had been less than pleasant...
Well. There was nothing for it but to face her. Raman Kumar Bhalla did not hide from his mistakes, after all.
Not even such a huge mistake as forcing himself on his wife.
With
a final sigh to commemorate what would surely be his last moment of
peace that morning, Raman reached out to shake Ishita's shoulder.
"Ishita! Oye, Ishita, subah ho gayee. Wake up."
Ishita
turned restlessly and murmured some indistinct protest. But Raman kept
calling to her, and finally she opened her eyes and frowned at him.
"Uff! Kya hai?" she asked sleepily, looking at him with a surprising calmness in her eyes.
Maybe she didn't remember what had happened yet? So far she was acting as if everything was normal.
"Wake up, we have to talk," he answered.
"We have to talk," she parroted back, using that mocking tone that was supposed to be in imitation of him.
She
sat up and stretched, and then looked down at herself in surprise. She
blushed and pulled up the blanket to cover the open part of her shirt -
well, his shirt.
She
glanced at him then, but quickly looked away again, and her blush
deepened. "What - what did you want to talk about?" she asked in a much
softer voice.
"Just - are you ok? Last night, I mean -"
"Yes, I'm fine!" she hurried to reassure him. "We already settled that, remember? I'm good," she insisted.
"We did?" It was his turn to frown.
His
memories were stuck on that last delicious phase, when he'd been inside
her. Had he managed to actually talk to after that? He didn't remember,
but he didn't want to admit it.
"Well,
ok. Waise, I just wanted to say - that is, I thought I should - umm -"
he faltered, suddenly finding it very hard to just apologize.
It
shouldn't be difficult. He really was sorry. He was ashamed and
regretful and it should be the simplest thing in the world to let her
know that he knew he was in the wrong.
But somehow the words didn't want to leave his mouth.
"Arre
kya hai? Aapko kuch hua kya? First thing in the morning and you can't
finish your sentences," she said, shaking her head in annoyance.
Her
blush was starting to fade and her tone of voice was still completely
normal - so typical of her, really, to be annoyed before she was even
awake - and her peaceful composure was suddenly more than he could
stand.
"I'm sorry about last night," he blurted. "It was a mistake, and I -"
"What?" Now, finally, he heard something different in her voice. It sounded like disappointment, which didn't make sense to him.
"I never meant to threaten you. About Ruhi, I mean, I -"
"I know," she interrupted. "I know you didn't mean that."
"But - but then...why did you - why did you agree?" he asked in bewilderment.
He
had been so sure that she'd only let him touch her out of duty, out of
her commitment to being Ruhi's mother. But now she was saying she hadn't
felt threatened?
"What do you mean, why did I agree?" Her frown had returned, and something dark was gathering in her eyes.
"Why did you let me touch you?"
"Because you said you wanted me to be your wife."
Ah. Still for duty, then. Only it was the duty she felt to him, not for Ruhi.
That didn't make it better.
"But -"
"What do you mean, it was a mistake?"
"I shouldn't have forced you. I know you didn't want to -"
"You didn't force me, Raman. And I did want to. I wouldn't have - 'let' - you if I didn't want to."
"Then - you mean - you wanted this? You wanted us?"
"Yes!
I wanted - I want us - to be a proper couple. I thought you did too.
That's why I...I thought I was giving myself to my husband, Raman. Are
you telling me that was a mistake?"
A
surge of possessive joy ran through Raman. He almost couldn't believe
that the universe was finally handing him so much unqualified happiness.
She wanted to be his wife. She wanted to be his.
He smiled then, and for the first time in years his heart felt free.
That
was Ishita's magic. She'd not only made a place for herself in his
life, she had finally and fully banished all the dark cobwebs of
lingering pain that had been burdening him since Shagun destroyed his faith
in life.
He reached to touch her face, gently sliding his thumb along her cheek. "No...it wasn't a mistake."
She smiled then, too, and blushed again, and tried to duck her head.
He forgot about his hangover breath and pulled her in for a kiss, thrilled to know that now he was welcome.
The
lush weight of her in his arms was suddenly more than he could handle,
and the rush of heat in his blood caught him by surprise. He was
definitely too old to be responding so readily...but when everything
about her was so overwhelming, how could he not?
He
only had a few fleeting moments to enjoy the silkiness of her skin, the
fragrance of her luxurious hair, the soft perfection of her body
pressed to his - because she pulled away almost as soon as he started
kissing her, scowling and waving a hand in front of her mouth.
"Gross, Raman! Uff, it tastes like something died inside your mouth," she complained.
Raman
flushed with embarrassment and was glad that Ishita was too busy
pouring herself a glass of water to be looking at him. First class
idiot Raman Kumar Bhalla turns his wife off with a simple good morning
kiss...
But
when she was finished rinsing her mouth she looked at him with a shy
smile again. "Waise...I wouldn't mind but...in future, it can be avoided
naa?"
Raman sighed heavily. "You're telling me not to drink, aren't you."
"Only...less. You know, so that in the morning you taste like...you."
Their
eyes met then, and held, and the hot silent moment seemed to stretch
forever. Finally he grinned and quirked an eyebrow at her.
"You're looking forward to...that taste?"
She gasped and smacked his shoulder with a quick slap. "Besharam kahin ka!"
Raman's grin deepened. "Kyun...apne biwi ki saath hoon, phir kaisi sharmindigi?"
Ishita bit her lip and then laughed, and all along the fierce blush lit her cheeks. "I guess not."
Raman
decided he was going to enjoy making her blush like that, and found
himself looking forward to the long nights and mornings ahead.
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