Devika
My eyes flickered, moving my hands across the bed to find him.
Nothing.
The sheets were cold.
I blinked, sitting up. “Uff, yeh aadmi…” I mumbled, rubbing my face.
My eyes shifted to the clock.
10:30 a.m.
“Wait—10:30?!” I almost shouted.
Jumping off the bed, the cold floor touched my bare feet and a shiver ran through me.
Something felt… off. I looked down—oh no. Wetness. Periods.
Sighing, I grabbed my towel and the soft cotton cloth and rushed to the bathroom.
Half an hour later, I came out drying my wet hair with the towel.
The freshness of the bath made me feel better, but my long damp hair brushed against my skin, making me shiver again.
“It won’t be good if I leave them like this,” I murmured.
I remembered—Dhritya gave me that new hair dryer.
Opening the drawer, I pulled it out and plugged it in. I was just about to switch it on when—
“Wait, Devi! What are you doing?”
His voice—deep and fast—cut through the room.
I turned sharply. He was standing there, breathing a little heavy, holding a plate in one hand. Before I could even react, he placed the plate on the bed and strode toward me.
“ ji aap—”
He snatched the dryer from my hand and, without a thought, threw it across the room. The device hit the floor with a sharp crack.
“What are you doing?! That was Dhritya’s!” I shouted, bending to pick it up, but before I could, he pulled me back—his hand firm around my waist.
Our faces were close—too close. His breath brushed against my cheek.
“You shouldn’t use that,” he said in a low, rough tone, his eyes dark with concern rather than anger.
“It’ll damage your long, pretty hair.”
I blinked, half angry, half confused. “So you’ll break the dryer instead?”
He didn’t answer, just kept staring at me, his fingers still resting on my waist.
The air thickened. The sound of my heart was louder than the silence around us.
Finally, exhaling, I said it—
“Okay, now you could’ve just told me instead of breaking the thing. What will I say to Dhritya now?”
He exhaled too, his grip loosening but his gaze still fixed on mine.
“I’ll give her a new one,” he said softly. “But don’t ever use that again. I’ll dry your hair.”
“What?”
Before I could protest, he made me sit on the chair near the mirror. Picking up the towel, he gently began drying my hair—slowly, carefully, as if every strand was something precious.
I looked at him through the mirror—his focus, his silence, his every move telling things I didn’t have words for.
After drying my hair, he took the comb and started brushing through them, carefully untangling each knot.
“I can’t roam around with my hair open like this,” I murmured.
“Why?” he asked, still combing.
“Married women should tie their hair,” I said.
“In which era are you living, Devi? Wake up—it’s the 21st century,” he said, looking at my reflection.
“But—”
“You look more beautiful like this,” he cut me off gently, taking out a hair clip from his pocket. He pinned it into my hair with a faint smile.
“Ishh… I’m pretty obsessed with your hair,” he said, taking my balai.
A pink hue bloomed across my cheeks as warmth spread through my face.
“Okay, now come here. Let’s eat breakfast,” he said, opening the plate and serving food onto each plate.
“A ji, let me do it,” I hurried to him, but he made me sit again and continued serving quietly.
He took a bite, then turned to me. “How can I eat before—”
My words stopped midway as he suddenly fed me the bite, stuffing it into my mouth before I could finish the sentence.
Before I could even finish, he was ready with another bite.
I quickly gulped the one already in my mouth and opened it again to say something—
but he placed the next one right in.
I stared at him, a little anger flushing through me.
The next time he lifted the spoon, I pressed my lips shut.
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Open your mouth.”
I shook my head no.
“Open your mouth, Devi,” he said again—softly this time.
And just like that, my heart melted.
I opened my mouth obediently, the bite was too big, so I took only half of it.
But my eyes widened when he quietly ate the remaining half—my leftover.
Gulping my bite, I snatched the plate from him.
“Don’t do this… it’s not good. God will not forgive me,” I said, my voice trembling as tears welled in my eyes.
Turning away, I tried to hide the embarrassment burning my cheeks.
He chuckled softly, and before I could think further, I felt his arms slip around my waist.
In a blink, he turned me smoothly to face him.
“Food never tasted this pure… this divine before,” he murmured, wiping my fallen tears with his thumb, eyes locked with mine.
“And there’s nothing wrong in eating the leftover of my goddess,” he whispered.
“God’s going to bless me with heaven, you know… maybe even a few more years of life.”
He said it so casually, yet something in his voice struck deep inside me.
My heart started beating faster—
He really had that power…
the power to silence a storm with just his words.
I couldn’t look away.
I just… kept looking at him.
“Aur kitni baar kaha hai, aise roya mat karo,” he scolded softly, his tone almost like a child’s complaint.
“Kisi din tumhare saath main bhi ro doonga.”
A small giggle escaped from my lips before I could stop it.
He smiled faintly, leaned down, and pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead before pulling me into his arms.
I hugged him back tightly, my face buried in his chest.
“Please don’t tell this to anyone,” I whispered.
“Why?” he asked immediately, his voice calm but curious.
“Don’t ask why,” I said quickly, “just… don’t tell. For me.”
He sighed, smiling faintly.
“Hmm, tumhare liye tumhe ghar se utha liya, yahaan tak aa gaya… ab baatein bhi chhupa loonga,” he said with mock seriousness.
“What do you mean?” I looked up at him, frowning slightly.
He was already looking at me with that unreadable softness in his eyes.
“Nothing,” he said innocently, shaking his head.
I sighed, glancing down at his outfit.
“It’s a holy day, you should wear something else. Why are you wearing black?”
“I’ll change,” he said simply.
“Okay, then I’m going downstairs—jiji must be waiting for me,” I said, freeing myself from his hold and stepping back.
“Uhmm… wait, Devi.”
“Ji?” I turned to look at him.
“Why did you bring my clothes?” he asked, a small crease forming between his brows.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Because I knew you’d come here… but it was fifty-fifty, so I just brought two pair,” I said, and walked away, leaving him standing there—
eyes narrowed, questions swirling behind them.
ANSH
Watching her leave, I couldn’t help but feel both curious and amused.
A small smile curved my lips as I rubbed the back of my neck, thinking about her.
Checking through her trolley, I found an old orange t-shirt of mine. Picking it up, I went to freshen up and changed into casuals.
Wiping my wet hair, I could still feel her scent lingering in the room—soft, calming, yet somehow intoxicating.
Her presence was everywhere.
I picked up her comb and ran it through my hair just as my phone buzzed.
“Sir, the work is done. We’ve already removed all the clues,” came my man’s voice from the other end.
I hummed in response and disconnected the call.
Then, slipping my phone into my pocket, I headed downstairs—to see my wife.
Ab jiske liye aaya hoon, uske paas hi rahunga na.
I spotted her in the hall, talking to Nani Maa.
She said something and giggled softly, and the old lady joined her, both laughing lightly.
Nani Maa noticed me first; her teasing eyes flicked between us as she gestured toward me.
Devika turned around—her cheeks flushed the instant our eyes met.
My gaze narrowed slightly, a hint of mischief tugging at my lips. The hall was a little crowded—servants moving about, chatter filling the air—but my eyes only searched for her.
Taking long strides, I approached them.
“Kya baatein ho rahi hain dono mein?” I asked, my tone casual but my stare fixed on her.
“Arey dikra, tujhe umar lage,” Nani Maa teased. “Hum toh abhi tere hi baare mein baat kar rahe the.”
“And what exactly were you talking about me?” I asked, leaning slightly closer.
Nani Maa chuckled, waving her hand. “Kuch nahi dikra, bas yun hi baatein kar rahe the.”
I nodded, though my gaze didn’t leave Devika for even a second. And I knew she felt it too—the heat of that silence between us.
Finally, she stood up, her eyes avoiding mine while mine refused to look away.
“Aap baithiye, main chai lekar aati hoon,” she said softly and hurried away— I sat beside nani maa, she was smiling looking at me but that was a teasing one, my eyes narrowed ,
“What?” I asked, looking at Nani Maa.
“I think you love her a lot,” she said with a teasing smile.
“Isme sochna kya hai,” I replied easily. “Hamesha se karta aaya hoon.”
“Hmm,” she nodded thoughtfully. “But I think she should study again. I asked about her qualification — she told me her parents didn’t let her study after 12th.” Her voice softened with concern.
“Okay,” I said without hesitation. “I’ll talk to her. If she wants to study again, I’ll get her admission done.”
“It’s good,” Nani Maa smiled. “Okay, you sit here. I’m going to meet your jethani ji.”
I nodded as she walked away. My gaze automatically drifted toward the kitchen — I could feel her presence before I even saw her.
And then she came out — head bowed, moving softly toward me.
“Typical woman,” I muttered under my breath.
“Here’s your tea,” she said quietly, handing me the cup.
I took it, my eyes fixed on her face — but she didn’t even look at me.
The moment she turned to leave, I caught her wrist.
Her eyes widened instantly.
“Leave me,” she whispered.
“Sit here,” I said firmly.
She nodded, and sat beside me silently.
I didn’t say anything more — and she knew what that meant.
After a few moments, she broke the silence.
“Kya hai?” she asked.
“Huh?” I blinked, caught off guard. The audacity—!
“What do you mean ‘kya hai?’” I frowned.
“Kya hai ji… matlab mujhe yahan kyun baithaya hai?” she asked innocently, taking a small sip of her tea.
“Nothing. Bas yun hi,” I said casually.
“Ji, main aurat hoon,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Aapke saath baithne ke alawa bhi mujhe bohot saare kaam hain.”
“No need to do any work,” I replied, leaning back with a smirk.
“Pagal aadmi,” she whispered under her breath.
I heard that.
“Yes, I know,” I said smoothly. “Ab main jaoon?” she asked, and this time, she wasn’t really asking — she was ordering.
“Kuch zyada nahi bolne lagi ho tum?” I said, turning toward her.
She stood up, looked right into my eyes, gave a tight-lipped smile — and then—
She stuck out her tongue at me and ran off.
I froze for a second, blinking in disbelief.
Seriously? Did she just tease me with her tongue?
This girl… she’s not afraid of me anymore.
Good. Very good.
Taking a slow sip of my tea, I couldn’t do anything except stare at her disappearing figure — her long hair dangling like a serpent down her back.
A small chuckle escaped me.
“Cute,” I murmured.
Finishing the cup, I stood up. “Time to help my wife,” I said to myself with a grin and went looking for her.
I found her wiping down a stack of shiny new metal plates.
“Should I help you?” I asked, knowing full well she’d refuse.
“No, you should rest. I can do it,” she said, her tone soft but firm.
Still, I snatched the plates from her hands.
“Arey, main kar lungi! Aap dijiye na,” she said, trying to take them back.
I didn’t listen.
She sighed in defeat and went somewhere else.
Once I finished wiping the plates, I went searching for her again.
And there she was — ironing clothes.
“Why the hell is she doing this?” I muttered, striding toward her.
Before she could react, I snatched the iron from her hands.
“Aapki problem kya hai, ji?” she shouted — thankfully, no one else was around.
“Why the hell are you doing all this? It’s not your job. Tell me, who told you to do these stupid things?”
“These are Bhavya’s clothes,” she snapped. “Nobody told me. I’m just doing it for her.”
“Shut up and stop this right now. You’re not doing anything anymore,” I said, my voice low but firm.
“You shut up! If you want to help me, then help. And if not, go to your room,” she fired back.
I closed my eyes and took a long breath. “Fine,” I said finally. “I’ll help you. But you have to stay with me — by my side.”
She nodded, and we continued together — I ironed while she folded.
And just like that, four hours passed.
She was running from one end of the house to the other, while I just followed behind her.
Yeh aurat hai ya bullet train, I thought. Ek jagah paanch minute bhi nahi tikti.
Finally, she sat down on the sofa nearby, wiping her face with her pallu. She motioned for me to sit beside her, and I did.
Then, without a word, she used the same pallu to wipe the sweat from my face.
“Aapke kuch laa doon?” she asked softly.
I shook my head.
“Paani, chai, kuch laa doon?” she asked again.
I shook my head again.
“Thik hai toh jaiye,” she said, reclining against the headrest with a sigh.
“Jaaiye aur mere liye ek cup chai laa dijiye.”
I blinked, staring at her in disbelief.
Did she just order me?
Her eyes were already closed — maybe she was tired.
Still, I got up and headed toward the kitchen.
“Ek glass paani bhi laa dijiye, ji,” came her sleepy voice from behind me.
“What?” I turned.
Her eyes were still closed.
“Aghh… this woman,” I muttered, shaking my head as I went to make the tea.
The kitchen was filled with women bustling about.
“Arey dikra, why are you here? Do you need anything? Tell me, I’ll make it for you,” Chachi ji asked as soon as she saw me.
“No, leave it — I’ll make it myself,” I said calmly, and the rest of them fell silent. Maybe they all left.
That’s called khauff, I smirked to myself.
I made the tea, poured it into cups, and placed them neatly on a tray.
Stepping out, I saw her still resting, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if lost somewhere far away.
“Here’s your tea and water,” I said, placing the tray on the table.
She took the cup and sipped quietly. I waited, eyes narrowed, watching her reaction.
A minute passed before she finally spoke.
“Hmm… aapne toh tarif ki nahi meri chai ki. Main hi kar deti hoon — kaafi achhi banai hai ji aapne.”
Her words pulled a breath of relief out of me.
“Tumhari chai bhi achhi thi,” I replied, but she ignored me, sipping again.
What’s with her mood swings today?
They make me tense… and somehow, I like it too.
I smiled faintly and took a sip of my own tea — not bad.
Write a comment ...