“I’ll take your offer then,” I say softly.
“What offer are we talking about, Shivani?” He teases, the smirk still on his lips. He wants me to say it. Of course he does.
“Can I…” I pause, heart racing. “Can I use you as my pillow?” He’s my husband. If I want to build something real with him, I need to start speaking my mind. That’s what he always says—it takes effort to build confidence.
“You can use me however you want, my wife,” he replies, leaning in close, hovering just above my face before kissing the tip of my nose. I inhale sharply.
God, he smells amazing. Rudraksh’s scent is this irresistible blend of clean clothes, masculine cologne, and something warm and spicy that’s just… him.
It’s comforting, like an embrace I never want to leave. He kisses my forehead gently, then lies back on the bed. He stretches out one arm and gestures for me to come closer. I hesitate. I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m heavy—by morning, his arm will be numb. He gives me a questioning look.
“I want to sleep on the pillow,” I say, and he nods, turning to his side to share it with me. I lie down beside him. He’s so close. My heart is pounding. Then he places his hand on my waist and pulls me in, closing the small gap between us.
The warmth of his touch sends shivers down my spine, and something flutters in my chest. With our bodies pressed together, I can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat syncing with mine, and finally, I feel my eyes flutter closed.
16
SHIVANI
I am freaking out. I won’t say I’m a particularly bad cook because, during big occasions at my parents' house, I used to be in charge of the kitchen. That was the only time they ever put me in control offood. But I had help back there. Maa did ask if I needed any help today too, but my dumb self said no. I just didn’t want to trouble anyone.
I asked Maa what I should cook, and she left it entirely up to me. Now the issue is—I’ve never had the power to make decisions, so obviously, when I have to, I get confused. Like now. Even on the big occasions—back at my parents' house, I was already told what to make. That's why it was really confusing when Maa left everything on me.
So I’ve decided to makepuri,aloo ki sabzi, andsuji ka halwa. That should be enough, right? I should have asked Maa while she was still in the kitchen.
When I woke up today, Rudraksh wasn’t in bed, and to be honest, I was a little disappointed. I mean, it’s our first day as a married couple, and I didn’t even get to see his face. But there was a note on the side table. For which I'd reached out immediately and opened it. It read:
I am in the gym. Good morning.
You look beautiful even in your sleep.
-R.
I may have reread the note way too many times. Embarrassingly many times. His handwriting isn’t very neat—it’s readable, though. But I have to admit: this man, whom I barely even know, somehow has the ability to make me blush without even being in the same room as me.
I got ready after wasting enough minutes on which saree to wear, because for almost my entire life, choice wasn't something I had. My mother usually picked my clothes for important occasions; that's why it was hard for me to choose.
When I finally came downstairs, I found only Dadaji sitting on his chair, reading the newspaper. I greeted him with a small smile, and he smiled at me warmly. Then Maa walked in and guided me to the kitchen. It’s mypehli rasoi, and she showed me where everything was. She told me not to worry—that even if I made just toast and butter, it would be fine. But obviously, I couldn’t do that.
It'smypehli rasoi.
So here I am, frying puris.
Oh, it is so not easy to cook in a saree, especially when it’s this hot. I feel like I'm frying myself in this pan instead ofpuris. Okay, that was a terrible joke. Or maybe it’s not a joke at all—it might just be the reality.
From my peripheral vision, I see Aditi walk in, still in her pajamas. I really like her, but at this moment, I’m jealous. I wish I could roam around like that, but obviously, I can’t—and I wouldn’t even if I were allowed. I wouldn’t want people to see me like that. What if they don’t like me?
“Sweet bhabhi, do you need any help?” she asks, hugging me. I stiffen a bit, my shoulders go rigid when she tightens her arm around me—I’m not a hugger. I have never been hugged before; that's why I am not a fan of physical touch.
“No, Aditi. But thank you for asking,” I say, trying to hide my irritation.
“What are you making?” she asks, rubbing her eyes, pulling away from me, and leaning over the kitchen slab.
“Ow, ow!” She shrieks out suddenly, startling me in the process, and I look behind to see Chachi pulling Aditi’s ear.
“Why don’t you go and bathe first?” she says, pulling her far away from the kitchen slab. Someone please pull me away from this heating volcano, I cry out mentally, but continue frying puri.
“What is everyone’s obsession with pulling my ears? I’m going to complain to Dadu,” Aditi complains and stomps out of the kitchen.